


Forsaken: Gods of War

by specimen



Series: FORSAKEN [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Dragon Ball Xenoverse, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 85,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specimen/pseuds/specimen
Summary: Part II of theForsakenseries, Gods of War picks up where Forsaken left off. It's a time of war throughout the world as the Saiyans and Frieza's Forces clash over control of the planet. As Bulma and the stranger from the future mount a mission to rescue Goku and the others claimed by the Rifts, it's up to Vegeta to protect the earth from certain destruction. Meanwhile, Marron, Krillin, and Android 18 attempt to discover the source of the mysterious whispers that still haunt Gohan.Reach me on Tumblr atactualrogers!
Relationships: Bardock/Gine (Dragon Ball), Bra Briefs/Son Goten, Bulla Briefs/Son Goten, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Trunks Briefs/Original Character(s)
Series: FORSAKEN [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594645
Comments: 57
Kudos: 47





	1. Prologue

“That’s just a stupid rumor someone made up to scare us.”

Bet shook his head, strands of his unruly blond hair brushing against the bridge of his nose. He pushed them away. “It’s not a rumor! It’s true, Milleke said so!” 

Sala only rolled her eyes. He was a stupid little boy with stupid ideas, and she was growing tired of his enthusiasm for these ghost stories. But he was her cousin and it was her job to look after him now that they were all they had left. Still, she couldn’t abide by his naivety without a fight. “Ghosts aren’t _real_ , idiot. Even if they were, why would they care about us?”

“Because we’re innocent and soldiers are bad!” Bet stuck his chest out as if it would make him seem older than he was. “And it’s not a ghost, it’s a _spirit_. There’s a difference!”

At eleven, he was taller than other boys his age though no less childlike. Sala was five years older and didn’t look much like him at all despite the relation; she had fair skin and deep purple hair like her mother, while her father had the classic blond hair and warm skin the rest of their family did. Not that it mattered anymore since all of them had died at the start of the war between the Saiyans and Frieza’s Forces. 

Her eyes trailed back toward the scene they had been discussing. Several bodies lay in various positions, scattered through the ruined paddy fields just a few miles away from their village. Some were partially stuck in the ground, others were sitting in the center of small craters in crumpled heaps. All of them were soldiers, both Saiyan and Forces. She and Bet had come to investigate the sounds of battle and salvage what they could from the fields.

“They killed each other,” she said, stuffing her pack full of rice. The plants were still green, and still too wet to be of use right away. “That’s what happened. That’s why we heard so much fighting — ghosts don’t make that kind of noise.” She paused to stand straight and wipe the sweat from her forehead on the back of her sleeve. There was a little capsule hut nearby where the Denns used to live, but they’d been killed months ago when the Saiyans first showed up. 

Bet was undeterred. “Spirits can do all sorts of things,” he insisted. “It probably made that much noise so we’d know to stay away.”

“Why are you so determined to— _OW!_ ” Sala’s ankle twisted so suddenly that she barely had time to catch herself before crushing her pack. Bet hurried to her side, kicking through the water clumsily until he reached her.

“Are you okay?!” he said. She nodded and looked down. Her foot was stuck in a small hole and it took the two of them to wrench it free. Sala hissed in pain as she raised her foot out of the water, the corners of her eyes stinging with tears. “Let me help you up. You must’ve made the spirit really angry!”

“It’s just a hole, not a stupid ghost,” she snapped, but she accepted his help anyway. “Let’s...let’s go to the hut. I need to dry off before we wrap it.”

The two made their way to the hut slowly. Sala was careful not to put too much weight on her foot and Bet did his best to hold her upright as they walked. Once they entered, she settled into a nearby chair while Bet looked for something to dress her ankle. The hut looked much like she remembered it, if not as warm and inviting as it had been when the Denns were there to greet her. Mr. Denn often came to the village to do his trading and made frequent appearances at festivals and other gatherings. Mrs. Denn used to make the best rice pudding she’d ever tasted, and the memory of it made her sorry for their loss.

Bet returned with a towel he found and Sala set about patting herself down. Once she bound up her ankle, they could be on their way back to the village. They hadn’t been there long when they began to hear voices. At first, she assumed it was other villagers, probably Milleke or Alash come to check on them. But after a moment, Bet crept closer to the window and peeked outside, then turned back to her with wide, fearful eyes.

“ _Forces_ ,” he whispered. “Sala, what do—”

“Quiet! They must’ve come to see what happened too,” she said in a hushed tone. Sala tried to stand, but it hurt too much and she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. “G-Go hide!”

“But—”

“Just go, idiot! I’ll hide too, we just can’t hide together.”

Sala waited until Bet had gone before she quickly rummaged through her pack to retrieve her knife. It was short but it was sharp enough to do some damage if anyone got too close. If they found Bet, they’d take him back to the city and make him one of them. And she couldn’t let that happen. Gingerly, she crawled toward the door and pressed herself against the wall beside it, quieting herself so that she could listen to their conversation.

“...number on these guys.”

“Saiyans...do you think the Saiyans did this?”

“No. See, there are Saiyans here too.”

“It was him, the one the commander told everyone about.”

“No way. He’s dead — the commander leveled Fire Mountain last week. No one could’ve survived that, no matter who they are.”

Sala carefully turned and stood slightly so that she could peer outside the door’s window. There were four men, all wearing the standard Forces battle armor with West City markings on their chest plates. 

_Why are they so far out here?_ Sala frowned as she watched them examine the bodies, then quickly ducked down when one of them turned to look at the hut. She didn’t hear what they said, not with her heart pounding as loud as it was in her chest, but after a moment when she didn’t hear any footsteps on the porch, she assumed they must not have been interested. She let out a sigh of relief until one of the men coughed and she realized they were much closer than they had been before.

One quick glance showed them approaching the hut slowly, still talking amongst themselves about whoever they thought killed their comrades. Sala clutched her knife tighter and pushed her back so hard against the wall behind her that she felt she might just melt into it. Their boots were loud against the wooden porch, almost in tandem with her rapid heartbeat. As the door began to open, Sala felt tears coming to her eyes and her limbs trembled with fear. 

“Looks abandoned. We should—”

Just as the man turned and caught sight of Sala, she lunged herself at him, wildly swinging the knife. He yelled in surprise, though managed to hold her off of him even when she slashed his cheek and his arm. Big hands wrapped around her arms from behind and yanked her backward, and when they twisted her arm she unwillingly dropped the knife.

“Holy shit! She tried to kill me!” The man she lunged at was young, with freckled skin and orange hair. He touched his cheek where she’d cut him and swore under his breath again. The other three men laughed at him.

“Better check your pants, Niar. Looks like you pissed yourself.” The man holding her was large, but she couldn’t see him very well. Her eyes were cloudy with tears and she was busy struggling to escape his grasp. “This one’s feisty.”

“Let me go!” Sala screamed. “Let me go or I’ll kill you, bastard!”

That elicited laughs from all of them, even the orange-haired one. “I like her.”

“She almost killed you, moron.”

“Yeah, but I still like her.”

The one called Niar reached out and put both of his hands on her chest, squeezing her breasts in his palms. She yelped, then brought her uninjured foot up to kick him in the knee. He stumbled back and cursed again while the men laughed. She tried to kick back at the man holding her, but he shook her slightly and adjusted so he held both of her hands behind her back with one hand and wrapped his arm around her neck.

“Stop fighting, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. “It’ll all be over soon.” His tongue touched her ear and she turned her head away as far as she could. As Niar made to approach, she tried to kick again but another man grabbed her leg and pinned it down. Niar’s hands were at her chest again, squeezing and pulling roughly.

“Stop it! Stop it, you bastards, stop it!” Sala yelled, though it only made them laugh harder. Niar stepped back to scoop up her knife and used it to cut open her shirt, ripping it the rest of the way off before cutting her bra in half as well. 

_They’re going to kill me,_ her panicked mind realized. Her eyes darted to where Bet had gone and she silently prayed he couldn’t see what was happening. With luck, they’d dump her body elsewhere so he wouldn’t have to see what they’d done.

Niar used the knife to cut her skin and mocked her when she cried, then dropped the knife to play with her chest again. She wasn’t sure how long he spent doing that, but it came to an abrupt end when the men stopped laughing. A persistent, urgent beeping noise came from their scouters. Slightly dazed, it took her a moment to realize they were speaking seriously to one another in hushed voices. The men holding her dropped her to the ground roughly and all four rushed to the windows at the same time.

“H-Hey, there’s no way that that’s him, right?”

The door burst open and Sala closed her eyes tightly against the light. The sound of fighting was immediate, and she instinctively crawled away from it until she hit a wall. She curled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly, covering her head with one arm and trying to stifle her cries. _I’m going to die_ , her mind told her repeatedly. Even as the sounds died out, she couldn’t bring herself to look. Only a single set of footsteps returned, heavy and slow on the floorboards. Fear gripped her tighter than it ever had before and she cried softly to herself, silently begging for it to end.

“Sala! Sala!” Bet’s voice sent a shockwave of panic through her. Her eyes shot open to find him sitting in front of her and she grabbed him by the shoulders and began to push him away.

“Idiot, k-keep hiding! Th-They’re—”

“They’re dead! I told you! I told you the spirit exists, I told you!”

Sala blinked, but confusion was still present in her mind. As her eyes adjusted, she realized that the soldiers were indeed gone. Her shirt was still ripped open and she hurried to cover her nakedness from Bet, not that he seemed to be paying much attention anyway. “Where...where did they go?”

“It’s like I said! The spirit came and killed them! It even took their bodies away.” Bet was beaming from ear to ear as if he’d just been told he could have all the candy in the world. He helped her to stand, and as she limped cautiously toward the door she caught sight of something draped over the chair. It was a shirt, far too large and clearly meant for a man, but...somehow she knew it’d been left for her. She pulled it on over her head and looked down at it curiously. It was dark blue and the sleeves were torn and frayed, like it’d gone through a battle of its own. The cloth smelled like sweat and campfire, and while it wasn’t unpleasant, she couldn’t help wondering what kind of spirit hangs around campfires, kills soldiers, and leaves their shirt behind.

“We...we should get back,” she said, uncertainly. Bet nodded enthusiastically, completely oblivious to how close they’d both been to certain death.

“Right! I wanna tell everyone about the spirit!” He was the first to run outside while she lingered behind. The soldiers that attacked her were indeed gone as if they’d never existed at all. As she crossed the fields with Bet, she realized all the other bodies were gone too. They got to the village pathway before Bet caught sight of one of his friends and hurried ahead to tell him all about the spirit. Sala watched him a moment before she looked back, straining her eyes to scan the fields, the hut, and the line of trees nearby. She caught sight of smoke in the distance, billowing up over the trees and into the blue sky. But it was too far away to matter, and she saw nothing else; no man, or any sign that it had been anyone but her and her little cousin out there. 

“Thanks, spirit,” she murmured.

After that, she returned twice a week to leave behind a small basket of fish and bread. Maybe there had been a spirit after all, and if there was, she wanted to make sure it knew she was grateful. She’d felt silly the first time she did it and came back to find rotting fish and moldy bread. But the next time she returned she found the basket empty, then again, and again. She also noticed how clean the hut stayed, and the thought of a spirit taking time to sweep and tend to the dust both confused and delighted her.

On her sixth visit, she folded the shirt neatly in the basket, the frays repaired and the cloth washed. It no longer smelled like a campfire, and she’d embroidered the word for ‘spirit’ on the chest. It too was gone the next time she came; the basket had been turned over with a note underneath it that simply read, “Thank you.” Sala smiled to herself and knew that the spirit had moved on.


	2. Bulla

Bulla stood before a quiet house surrounded by mountains. She’d never seen it before, yet it somehow still felt familiar to her. It was nighttime and the only source of light came from a curtained window. Smoke streamed lazily into the night air from a chimney and as she approached she could hear voices. A child’s laugh sounded from behind the wooden door, beckoning her to join in. But just as she reached for the handle, she heard another laugh. A terrible laugh that sent a chill down her spine.

 _Lord Frieza._ She turned away from the door to find she was on the ship again. She could still hear the child, though it wasn’t laughing anymore. “Please come back.” She looked behind her at the wooden door. “Please.” It would be so easy to just open the door, yet she didn’t. She didn’t know who or what was behind it. Could she trust the unknown so easily? No...no, she couldn’t. Not after everything. But she knew Frieza. She knew his ship. She turned away.

As she walked down the empty hallway slowly, she sensed that she was alone. Frieza wasn’t there, but she knew the throne room held the entirety of Frieza’s empire; he commanded his armies from there, decided who lived and who died from there. Frieza didn’t wear any crown, though the throne room and that hover pod represented his rule like one might. Now, both were up for the taking. If he was truly gone, then all she had to do was seize it for herself. She could steal the power he’d left behind and make it her own. She was strong enough now. She was _ready_. 

Bulla entered to find the throne room empty, save for Frieza’s hover pod, and that too held nothing inside. Music played off in the distant, slow and quiet but still recognizable. It was the sort of music she used to sing and dance to while wearing so little she might as well have been naked some days. Back when she was nothing more than a dancing monkey, a mockery of her father’s people. Even now it made her blood boil with rage and humiliation.

She approached the hover pod cautiously, watching it as though she thought it might come to life and attack her, but it remained lifeless. Her hand trembled as she reached for it, _knowing_ that this was it. This was everything she wanted. Everything she worked for. As her fingers brushed the cool metal, however, it felt as if something, or everything, shifted.

Suddenly, the child screamed. She spun around and there was that quiet house once more, consumed by flame and falling apart in front of her. Something urged her closer, urged her to find the source of the scream and save it. The flames raged hard, threatening to consume her as well if she got too close and it forced her to stumble back. She had to save that child, she knew she had to. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to. 

“Mama!”

She stopped.

It was a trick. It had to be a trick. She wasn’t a mother. She couldn’t be a mother. Frieza took that away from her like he took everything. But the hover pod was right there, right behind her. She was so close. Everything she wanted was right behind her. Everything she ever worked for was right behind her. Her entire life, her entire _existence_ , was there to take back and it was just _right behind her_. All she had to do—

“Bulla, wait!” She looked again and wished she hadn’t. Frieza stood there, holding Goten by the neck.

“No, stop!” She stepped forward but froze when Frieza’s grip tightened and shook his head at her. “Don’t hurt him,” she said. “ _Don’t!_ ”

“Oh, how cute,” Frieza laughed. “Begging for this pathetic monkey. Have I taught you nothing?” One quick motion and she cried out when Goten crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap, among the corpses of her parents, her brother and Marron, and Yamcha, whose eyes were still open and staring her down. Frieza pointed his finger at her now, without even looking her way. “And I had such high hopes for you, pet.” She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. The violet bolt went straight through her stomach, and she stumbled back into the flames. As her skin burned the child screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Bulla woke with a start. For a moment she sat confused, her eyes adjusting to the light pouring in from the circular window across the room. A dream. It was only a dream. She just managed to lean over the side of the bed in time to let the vomit hit the floor rather than her own lap, her arms shaking as she held herself up. The door opened almost immediately and a short, round woman hurried in.

“Princess, are you alright?” Totoma asked. Bulla nodded slowly. She’d only recently gotten used to having her own personal help again, especially since it wasn’t like the kind she had under Frieza. Totoma answered her every beck and call rather than police her. For once, Bulla was in complete charge of everyone around her. “I’ll have this cleaned up right away. Please, let me help you to the bath.”

Bulla pushed Totoma’s hand away as the woman reached out to assist her, and climbed out of bed herself, her knees shaking slightly. “No. I can do it myself. Just get this cleaned up.” Totoma bowed dutifully and set about her work as Bulla made her way to the bath, letting the water steam before she carefully climbed in.

Once she had fully settled, Bulla leaned back and let out a deep sigh. The memory of whatever she’d just dreamed faded away quickly, though a sense of dread lingered with her. It’d been weeks since Goten went into the rift and her mother followed after him. She was still angry, no doubt there, but she also felt an odd melancholy about the whole thing at this point. After all, she’d always known it was only a matter of time until he left her, just as she expected.

 _I love you, okay?_ Love. What a joke. She’d told him she couldn’t do that. She’d told him she didn’t want it. But he said it anyway as if he really meant it. As if it mattered even if he did.

“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes and letting herself sink further into the water. Just thinking about him made her angry again. But she didn’t need him anymore anyway, not when she had everything she wanted. Ever since she learned the truth, ever since she found out that the king just wanted his family together, she’d been less interested in whatever it was that held her father back. She belonged here with these people. The Saiyans were enough to fight Frieza _if_ what Goten said was true. If not, then they were certainly more than enough for Chigo’s men.

Another wave of nausea struck her and she bit back against it. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten about the other thing he’d left her with — how could she when it insisted on waking her up so _pleasantly_? Her hand absently trailed to the space below her belly button. Although slight, there was a swell beginning to form there. Her clothes were getting a little too tight to be comfortable, and if she turned just the right way in the mirror she could tell there was something other than a ball of energy there. It would only get bigger, she knew. _She_ would only get bigger. She tried not to think about it. It didn’t even really matter, anyway. This was a price she was willing to pay for proving Frieza wrong and taking her body back from him. With or without Goten, she finally had something of her own. Something no one could take from her.

She took solace in how powerful it was already. Its ki was getting stronger every day, almost like a growing wildfire. And just like a wildfire, Bulla found it difficult to control; between that and the sickness, it made training especially hard, doubly so considering the last time she’d tried. No one trusted her not to blow up the entire ship next and so she had to rely on Vegeta to train her by himself. Her father was almost as insufferable as Tollash. He’d chastised her the last time they trained together when she’d resorted to flinging ki blasts at him in frustration.

 _Control yourself,_ he’d warned. It only annoyed her more, acting like he of all people couldn’t handle it.

“Princess, the king’s requested your presence,” Totoma said at the door.

“I’ll be right out.” Bulla gave herself another few minutes to enjoy the water, and to settle her still frazzled nerves. Afterward, she dressed in the black and red clothing she’d been left, grimacing at how uncomfortable the pants were now. Saiyans weren’t especially fashionable, nor did they seem particularly interested in keeping up with what she needed unless she specifically demanded it. She’d have to make the trip down to the city herself later, she decided. Maybe make her father go with her, too.

Her talks with the king resumed as soon as Bulma had gone. It irritated her slightly when she noticed how willing her father had become to actually comply with the king’s wishes, considering how abruptly he’d changed his tune. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d realized her own interest and did it to spite her, or just impede her in some way, but that was a problem for another time. For now, she knew that she had something valuable to the king that her father didn’t. His interest in what she carried was obvious, and she was perfectly content to exploit it for as long as she could.

She arrived to find the king already with three others. Rottece, Okara, and Tollash were all sitting in their assigned chairs, speaking quietly to the king. Talk ended when she entered, and the three stood out of respect until she took a seat beside Okara. “Is my father busy?” she asked casually.

“I assume so. He refused to grant us his presence for this meeting,” the king answered. “He chose to go with one of our patrols instead, which is why I asked you here.”

Bulla had to work to hide her interest. She wanted to play her cards right, and that meant keeping them close to her chest. Years of watching Frieza, and those trying to appeal to him, had prepared her for this. “I’m honored. I hope I can be of use.”

“As do I. I’m told you had a network of informants at your disposal within West City. Are those contacts still viable?” the king asked, straight to the point.

“Most likely, though when I escaped those contacts probably passed to Marron. She would have more access to them,” she said.

“If we were able to gain access to the city, would you be familiar enough with those names to reestablish a connection?”

She had to think a moment. “I could contact Marron and—”

“It would serve us better to ensure complete loyalty to us, rather than to share with those who view us as enemies,” the king said, cutting her off curtly. “Are you or are you not able to provide names?”

Bulla paused and noted the way Okara leaned forward in her seat, but she willed herself not to break eye contact with the king. Doing this would mean cutting into whatever plans Marron had in motion, she knew. She also knew that this was where she belonged now. If she wanted their respect, if she wanted to rule them one day, then the choice was obvious. There wasn’t time for sentiment anymore. “Yes, I am.”

The king nodded approvingly. “Good. Okara, see to it you provide food, money, protection — whatever we will need to secure these contacts for our own use. You and the princess will put things in motion once we’re done here. See to it we gain access to West City quickly. I want as many eyes and ears in that place as soon as possible before we attack.”

“Of course, my king,” Okara said. She turned to Bulla and smiled wide. “It seems we’ll be working very closely together from now on, princess! I am so looking forward to it.”

Bulla couldn’t say the same, though she offered a polite nod. There was something unsettling in the unrelenting joy Okara seemed to emanate everywhere she went. As the king and Okara continued to talk about their spy networks, she could feel nausea beginning to creep back in. She realized that she’d forgotten to eat, but that fact certainly didn’t seem to have escaped it. _Don’t you dare_ , she thought. _You can wait._

“Chigo turned his attention to North City. It seems a rebellion appears to have broken out amongst the slaves,” Tollash said to the king. “He’s dispatched two thousand soldiers to see it ended quickly.”

“Send fifty men to support the rebellion. Once we‘ve driven him back and brokered a deal with these little rebels, send another twenty to bolster our forces there.”

“If the rebels refuse us?” Tollash asked.

The king didn't hesitate. “Finish the job.”

“Yes, my king. Would you like me to head the charge?”

“No, I’d rather you were here,” the king said. “Send Bardock and his team. I believe they’ve earned some action. What news from South City?”

“Nothing of note, but there are rumors that someone has been killing soldiers among the fishing villages along the coast,” Tollash said, though she hardly seemed interested. “Some of our scouts have reported patrols going missing in those particular areas. It’s consistent with Son Gohan’s previous movements.”

“Killing our patrols for sport, or is there another reason?” the king questioned.

“It’s unclear, Your Highness.”

Her stomach turned right then and Bulla shifted uncomfortably, doing her best to pay attention and swallow the urge to throw up all over the table. She brought a free hand down to settle over her stomach. _Just wait a minute, damn you,_ she thought as if it would actually help. Okara let out an irritatingly loud giggle and clapped her hands together.

“I believe our own princess is more familiar with our friend than any of us are,” she said. “What do you think?”

Bulla swallowed hard. It was difficult to think clearly when she was putting so much energy into keeping her intestines from crawling out of her mouth. “I...he’s never done anything without a command from Frieza,” she said. “I have no idea why he’d kill our men.”

“Surely you know more,” Okara pressed. “After all, your man is his brother, isn’t he?”

“I don’t have a man,” she snapped, almost immediately. The curious glances she received were enough to make her realize how sharply she’d spoken. She quickly recovered and let out a small breath. “But he...you said fishing villages? If it were Goten, he’d be doing it because he’d think he was helping.” _Like an idiot who doesn’t know when to stay out of things._ “But he’s nothing like Goten.”

“Hm. Still, see to it that our patrols are kept away from human settlements unless absolutely necessary. If we want to bring him to the table, we need him to believe we are on his side.”

She had half a mind to tell the king not to waste his time, though she doubted it would do anything. The king continued to speak to Tollash about patrols and men and whatever else came with wartime strategy, but all Bulla could think about now was how badly she wanted to return to her room. Her skin felt warm enough that she could feel the beads of sweat beginning at her hairline. She’d gone past demanding that her body cooperated with her. Now she was practically begging it to.

“No word from Bulma yet, I take it,” the king said. It caught Bulla’s attention enough to distract her momentarily. Rottece shook his head and produced a tablet, tapping on the screen a few times before bringing up an image and handing it over to the king. Bulla couldn’t quite make out what was happening on it, though the king seemed to understand.

“As you can see, Your Highness, she’s making excellent progress. The data she’s collecting will be incredibly useful to our own work here, especially with regards to our own projects,” he said, happily. He seemed to sense Bulla’s curiosity and quickly cleared his throat. “However, there’s been no word yet on whether or not she’s located any of the others within the rifts. It seems our calculations may have been slightly, ah...off. I have no doubt that she will find them soon.”

“This number up here is a date and time, is it not? It appears to be broken,” the king set the tablet down and Rottece stood to retrieve it.

“On the contrary, my king, time itself seems to have little meaning where she is. While for us it has been weeks, for her it’s been merely days if I had to guess. I have no doubt the inconsistency will persist as she travels further in,” Rottece said.

“How will you know if she finds someone?” Bulla asked, pushing aside her nausea. 

“The old fashioned way, I’m afraid. She’ll need to tell us,” he said.

Bulla lost interest in the rest of the conversation. She was beginning to understand why her father hated these meetings; while normally she might have had the patience, right now it felt like her skin was about to crawl off of her bones. By the time the king dismissed them, she felt dizzy. But as she began to rise, he held up a hand.

“Not you,” he said. “Okara, send for breakfast on your way out.” She lowered herself back into her seat, doing her best not to appear as uncomfortable as she felt. “You look pale. Avoca tells me the child is already quite strong. I imagine it must be very draining for a half-breed such as yourself.”

 _Half-breed._ She grimaced slightly at that. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said. “I’m sure other women here have experienced similar.”

“None of them are half-breeds,” he said. “It’s a pity your mother felt compelled to go for herself. I’m sure she might have provided some useful insight for you. Very few of us have had half-breed children, even fewer so with humans, as you know.”

Bulla gave a polite nod. He glanced at the door as it opened and three servants came in carrying large trays of food. Most of it was made up of pastries with sweet icing, clearly nothing that the Saiyans normally made. It surprised her how quickly everything was delivered, and she half-wondered if the king specifically requested the pastries for her. She was just grateful to finally have something that might settle her stomach. She waited until she’d had a few bites of a cinnamon roll before she chose to speak again.

“Avoca makes it sound like its strength is unusual,” she said. If she was honest, she might have admitted to the hint of pride she felt at that thought.

“Most infants do not show their potential strength until after they’re born,” he said casually. “But it’s not unheard of. My wife experienced something similar, so I am not surprised that your own child is showing signs of incredible power so early on. Though I’d be curious to know if Goten’s mother could help you in your own mother’s absence. If we were able to bring her—”

“No.” She didn’t realize how abruptly she’d spoken, but when she did she quickly lowered her gaze out of respect. “I just mean...Goten’s mother is the least cooperative woman I’ve ever met. She’d be a pain to deal with, and I certainly don’t want her around.”

The king regarded her for a moment, then nodded. “So I’ve been told. Your father shares the same viewpoint, though I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it is true, and how much is part of a misguided effort to protect her son.” He leaned forward to help himself to some fruit on a small plate, and Bulla watched his every move. “Given your reactions whenever we discuss him, however, I take it you don’t share your father’s motivations.”

“With Gohan?” she said. The king nodded and Bulla’s mouth twitched. “No, I don’t.”

“Even though you carry his brother’s child?”

“He means _nothing_ to me,” she said sharply. “I don’t care whose brother he is. If I had any idea where he was, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you. And I really do hate that miserable old hag.”

The king took a drink from the glass in front of him, his eyes lingering on her as if deciding whether or not to believe her. 

“No matter. I’m sure Avoca will appreciate the chance to study your progress himself,” he said. “I am curious about something, though, if you would indulge me.”

She knew the illusion of choice was just that, and she nodded politely. “Of course.”

“I was led to believe that Frieza had both you and your brother made sterile. I assume now I was misinformed.”

Bulla had to pause, her fingers tightening around her fork slightly. “No, you weren’t. I was...it happened when I was younger.”

“And yet you’re with child.”

She frowned lightly. Even now, it was hard for her to believe at times. “This wasn’t supposed to be possible. But Goten gave me something...I think he called them senzu beans?” she said. “When I broke my back during a fight, Goten gave me one and it was like it never happened. My back was healed, and later when we...well, I got pregnant. Clearly, it fixed that too.”

“I see. So, it performed a miracle of sorts, would you say?” he asked and she nodded. If she didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought the king’s interest had finally shown itself, though whatever sign she thought she saw was gone a second later. “You said Goten had them?” 

“Yeah, he did. But he used them all already. We ran out during Almone’s attack.” 

“A pity.” The king returned to his meal, and so did Bulla.

The rest of the breakfast was spent in relative silence, neither very interested in much small talk. She wondered briefly about his interest in the senzu beans, though dismissed it when she realized how she might’ve felt if she were the one in his shoes. Having something to instantly heal any wound _would_ be a very intriguing prospect, especially during war. But by the time they were finished, however, the nausea Bulla had been hoping to drive away hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it almost seemed worse and the king seemed to have sensed that.

“Perhaps you should go to Avoca. He may have something to ease your discomfort,” he suggested as he excused her. She had half a mind to simply return to her room, but maybe the king had a point. Right as she turned the corner heading toward the infirmary, she caught sight of her father trailing behind several other Saiyans. Each one bore the tell-tale signs of battle, though unsurprisingly Vegeta had the fewest marks.

“Dad,” she said as she hurried to catch up. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m guessing it went well?”

“More or less,” he said. “We won.” One of the other warriors — Raditz, if she remembered correctly — snorted and looked back at them.

“We did more than that, Vegeta. We sent a thousand of Chigo’s men screaming back to their little ships, and decimated hundreds more.”

“ _We?_ ” Vegeta scoffed. “Don’t talk as if you did anything worth a damn, Raditz.”

Raditz blanched, though he didn’t bother talking back. Bulla looked ahead and realized that the two in front were carrying someone, and they were also heading toward the infirmary. Once there, she watched them settle a severely injured man on one of the beds. His mangled, broken tail looked like it was barely attached anymore.

“Who’s that?” she asked. Vegeta shrugged and leaned against the wall by the door.

“He’s one of us,” Raditz decided to answer. “No doubt a prisoner of war.”

“Are you going to state whatever obvious thing that comes to your mind? Or contribute something _useful?_ ” Vegeta snapped. The look Raditz gave Vegeta sat somewhere between humiliation and fury, but again he didn’t dare to talk back. Instead, he left with the other warriors as Avoca shooed them away.

“I didn’t realize Chigo was taking prisoners,” Bulla said.

“Neither did I,” Vegeta muttered. Something in her father’s tone made it obvious that he was bothered by the notion, but her stomach turned and distracted her from asking him any more questions. She swallowed hard and made to sit down near a wastebasket, just in case. Vegeta watched her as she sat. “Hmph. Your mother didn’t get this sick.”

“Guess I’m just lucky,” she said, not even trying to hide the irritation in her voice. 

He grunted, then pushed away from the wall and headed for the door. “Come find me when you’re feeling better. We still need to work on your ki control.”

She nodded, and no more than a few seconds after he left had she made use of the wastebasket. With Avoca understandably busy, she dealt with one of his assistants, Orgetta. She wasn’t as intense as the old doctor was, and she seemed to have more sympathy for what Bulla was going through.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with half-breeds,” Orgetta said, sifting through a drawer. She produced a small needle and Bulla winced away from it. “I apologize, princess, but you’re going to need to let me draw some blood.”

“Use the scanner,” Bulla said. Orgetta shook her head.

“It’s not as accurate as we need it to be,” she said. When Bulla still hesitated, she offered a warm smile. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

Bulla reluctantly complied and winced slightly when the needle pricked her skin. She hated needles. They reminded her too much of a childhood full of them and while Orgetta had made good on her promise and quickly withdrew, the feeling lingered longer than Bulla would have liked.

“Humans seem remarkably durable,” Orgetta said. “There’s a human down in the city I find interesting. He was a slave and helped to overthrow his masters before we came.”

“You go to the city?” Bulla asked, adjusting her sleeve to cover where the needle had touched her. 

“Not often, but when I do I visit him. He has some very intriguing insights into how his people have survived so long under Frieza.” While Orgetta spoke, she put Bulla’s blood onto a tray and inserted it into a machine, then began tapping away at a screen. “He tells me West City is much, much larger than this one.”

“It is,” Bulla said absently.

“Hopefully I’ll have a chance to see it soon, assuming we don’t have to destroy it.”

“You’re not missing much,” Bulla muttered. She looked over to where Avoca was, his back turned toward them while he continued to work on the unconscious man. Orgetta was nice, but nice was boring. And so was the conversation she was trying to have.

“I’ve considered moving down to the city to stay. He mentioned—”

“Did you find anything in my blood?” Bulla interjected abruptly. Orgetta paused, then cleared her throat.

“No, Your Highness. Nothing unusual. I have something for your stomach, though.” As Orgetta picked through the medicine, Avoca seemed to have finished his work and walked over to join them. He eyed Bulla over his glasses, muttered “ _thin_ ” under his breath, then moved to look over the screen before he took whatever medication Orgetta had selected. He replaced it with what looked like a protein bar and pushed it into Bulla’s hands.

“The fetus requires more nutrients, princess. If you intend to give birth to a healthy child, then you need to _feed it_ ,” he said, his tone bordering on scolding.

She wrinkled her nose and looked down at the bar. “But I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps your nausea makes you think otherwise, but I assure you once you have that under control you’ll find you are quite hungry. And you,” he rounded on Orgetta. “Stop trying to make friends and focus on the numbers! You nearly let the princess starve her child to death.”

Orgetta’s cheeks turned red and she bowed low. “Please forgive me, princess. I should have realized.” Bulla didn’t answer, though she couldn’t blame Orgetta for missing something even she didn’t know was there. 

Avoca gave an annoyed huff. “That human of yours has made your work sloppy. Go for now. We’ll discuss this later.” He watched her go, then returned his attention to Bulla. “Eat. I have more if you need.”

“This doesn’t make sense. I already ate with the king,” she said. 

“Yes, I can see that,” he said. He motioned toward the wastebasket. “It clearly didn’t agree with you. Let me guess — you ate those silly little sweet rolls? Hmph. You’ll need plain foods with more protein in them. I’ll inform the kitchen to ensure they’re not sending you _garbage_.”

She scowled and forced herself to eat the protein bar while Avoca ran the scanner over her again. He moved to his desk off in the corner, muttering to himself all the while. Once she finished it, Bulla could begrudgingly admit that he may have had a point. She’d been careful not to eat more than the king did during breakfast, and whatever the bar had in it seemed to be enough to chase her nausea away. A low groan caught her attention and she glanced over at the unconscious man.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“War, Your Highness. And all the things that it comes with.”

She rolled her eyes and stood to cross the room so she could get a better look at him. The man had been cleaned up a bit, enough that she could see he looked to be around her age, maybe a few years older. He had a strong jaw and narrow features, with eyebrows that pointed slightly in the middle. A few scars littered his face, the most prominent of which ran down his forehead through his left eyebrow and stopped just above his eyelid. Around his neck was a thin leather string with what looked like a tooth hanging off it. As she examined him, she caught a glint from the light off something tangled in the mess of his unruly hair.

 _A jewel._ Almost identical to the ones Frieza put in her own hair. Bulla stared at it for a moment, completely dumbfounded. She reached down to touch it, but her fingers had barely grazed it when he startled awake and grabbed her by the wrist roughly. He let out a vicious, animalistic growl and she gasped when he twisted her wrist, forcing her to bend with it or let it break. Even then, it felt as if he was going to snap it in half.

“Princess!” Avoca was at her side immediately and jammed a needle into the side of the man’s neck. His eyes widened with fear, losing all of the anger they’d carried a second before. His grip loosened and she pried her wrist away from him to hold it against her chest.

“Are you alright?” Avoca turned back toward her, and she nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she said. Her heart was pounding wildly, though she had no idea why. It wasn’t like he was _actually_ going to be able to hurt her. She could’ve overpowered him easily if she’d been less distracted. “I’m fine.”

She watched as the man struggled to stay conscious, his fearful eyes darting around the room until they landed directly on her. He blinked, slowly, and his mouth gaped open as he stared at her. Bulla didn’t move.

“P-Pretty,” he croaked with a hoarse voice before he passed out.

 _Pretty?_ She frowned, unsure of what to make of that.

“Avoca, those jewels in his hair…” Bulla began, then hesitated. “I want them. Bring them to me once you’ve removed them.”

The look he gave her indicated that he wanted to ask her a question but ultimately thought better of it. “Yes, princess. As you wish.”


	3. Marron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Part I, I made use of chapter titles that referenced character names using lines that began with the first letters of their names (or name equivalents). To reduce stress, I decided to step away from doing that since sometimes I'd spend longer deciding on a chapter name than the first sentence of one (lookin' at you, Vegeta chapters.) How do you feel about it so far? Did you prefer proper titles or are names fine?

“You’re sure of this?” Marron had to read the message once, then twice, then a third time. Elo nodded grimly.

“I don’t understand it myself. We made some of these agreements over a month ago. Why would they change their minds so suddenly?” he said. Marron didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set aside the tablet and folded her hands in her lap while she thought. There weren’t many reasons why almost every single one of her contacts would suddenly abandon her at once, especially after so many years.

“Do we have anyone left?” Marron asked.

“Shrim and Haka’s groups. Haven’t heard from Qubi or her associates yet,” Elo said.

“Let’s not rule her out. Find out whether or not Shrim and Haka were approached, and if they were we need to know who it was and what they were offered. We might be able to keep them if we can sweeten the benefits,” she said. “Go gently. They might have been scared into it by Chigo.” Elo nodded and made to leave. As he opened the door, however, he stopped and stepped aside to allow her mother to enter.

“Mom! I didn’t realize you were here,” Marron said, delighted. She stood from her seat and moved to hug her, nodding to Elo as she did so he knew to leave.

18 returned the hug, then pulled back to brush some of Marron’s hair behind her ear. “I was looking for you. It’s been a little while since we last spoke, hasn’t it?”

Marron smiled. “Only a week. I’m sure you and dad have been busy with all the work you two do.”

“We’re lucky we were able to rebuild quickly after Almone’s attack, but there’s still plenty of work left,” 18 said. Marron walked with her to the kitchen and started on a pot of tea. “And it looks like those Saiyans aren’t going anywhere.”

“They’re still waiting for Gohan?” Marron asked.

“That’s my guess,” 18 said with a shrug. Marron nodded and returned to preparing the tea. A comfortable silence settled between them then, ending only after she had poured two cups and handed one to her mother.

“I assume dad is still busy,” Marron said, settling down in a chair at the table. “You two do an awful lot around here. Everyone is very lucky to have you.”

18 eyed her silently while she sipped her tea, then set her cup down and nodded. “Sometimes I forget how much you’ve grown up. When you were a kid, your dad and I used to wonder what you’d be like.”

Marron smiled. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you.”

Her mother shook her head. “No. You’ve surprised both of us, actually. I always knew you were strong. Stronger than anyone thought you could be.” For as even as 18’s tone was, Marron recognized something else beneath it. Something she couldn’t quite identify.

“It hasn’t been easy,” she admitted. “Living under Frieza’s thumb has certainly taught me a lot more than I ever thought it would.”

“Tell me about it,” 18 said. When Marron looked at her curiously, her mother elaborated. “You must have gone through a lot. I’ve only ever heard rumors but if there’s just a shred of truth to them...well, I don’t know a lot of people who could come out of it as well put together as you.”

Honestly, it surprised her that it’d taken this long for anyone to sit down and point-blank ask her for details about what life was like with Frieza. She’d half-expected it to be her father before her mother, but she supposed it made sense this way — Krillin was a soft-hearted man. If he heard some of those rumors himself, it was more likely he wouldn’t _want_ to find out whether or not they were true.

“Well, where would you like me to start?” Marron asked.

“Wherever you want.”

She had to think. Her mother waited silently, her gaze never leaving her face though it wasn’t uncomfortable for Marron. Finally, after a few minutes, she took in a breath. “I never fought Lord Frieza, you know? I didn’t even consider it. I always thought someone else would come. Someone else would fight him and I could go home. When I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I accepted that. I don’t know that I would consider that brave, but I thought if I could accept that then I could survive at least.”

“We tried to get to you a few times,” 18 said, guilt and anger heavy in her voice. “We...it wasn’t like we _gave up_. Your uncle, your dad, and me — we all tried.”

“I know you did,” Marron quickly added. “I know. I remember hearing about Uncle’s fight with Captain Almone. They tried to tell me he died but I knew better.”

“She was a coward. If Frieza hadn’t shown up, 17 would’ve finished her off and we could’ve taken you home.”

“I’m glad he didn’t.” At her mother’s surprise, she smiled ruefully. “I just mean...if I had gotten away then, Bulla would’ve been alone. I would’ve hated to do that to her.”

18’s features softened almost instantly. “You really took care of her, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to make sure she didn’t grow up thinking no one cared about her,” Marron said. “Frieza was harder on her than he was me a lot of the time, and it only got worse the older she got. That isn’t to say he didn’t have his own...agenda with me. But by not fighting back, I think he came to trust me more than her. Or perhaps he was just got bored with me quicker. Either way, I’m pretty sure he had plans for both of us.”

“Any idea what they might’ve been?” 18 asked.

Marron shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Frieza was very guarded with a lot of his plans. He found it entertaining to reveal them at the last second- if he revealed them at all. After he gave Char permission to marry me, he stopped including me in as many things. I think he intended to...not let me go, but not keep me so close anymore. That’s why it was so easy for Char to get into contact with you and dad.”

“Char was a good man. I’m sorry for what happened to him,” 18 said.

“He was, yes. I miss him quite a lot.” Marron didn’t want to say more on the subject. Not because it was painful, necessarily. Char’s memory no longer hurt as much as it used to and a part of her was disturbed by that fact. It was easier not to acknowledge it than it was to deal with it.

“It was the faceless man that caught him, right?” 18 asked. Marron hesitated, then nodded. Her mother looked at her from across the table, her blue eyes studying her face for a moment as the pair fell silent again. It was like she was considering something very carefully, weighing whatever thoughts she had before she finally spoke again. “You know, I’ve seen the way you look at Gohan. We all thought he died a long time ago, so we never considered that the faceless man could be anyone we knew. But ever since we found out Gohan’s been alive the whole time, I’m guessing that’s not the case.”

Marron froze. Again, it was only a matter of time. She supposed of anyone, her mother would be the one to pick up on any change in demeanor Marron couldn’t help whenever he was mentioned or seen. Still, it was not an easy question to answer, even though she was relieved to not have to pretend otherwise. 

“No. Gohan is...or was the faceless man,” she said at last. “And I am very much aware that the mask played a part in everything he did. He answered to Frieza and Frieza alone, and did whatever he was commanded to.” She paused. “I told him that I would keep it a secret from dad.”

“In exchange for what he told you,” 18 finished. “I overheard some of your conversation before I left.”

“I didn’t enjoy doing that,” Marron said, defensively.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position,” 18 said. “That said, it seemed a little more personal than just business.”

Marron hesitated again. She’d hoped to put off talking about Gohan for as long as possible and having her mother come to her so directly was unexpected. She could lie, she knew, but she also knew her mother well enough to know she’d see through it. She wondered what her mother would do with the truth. What her father would do if she told him too. She wondered if she even really cared at this point, or if she was more worried about losing a means to make him do as she asked. 

As if she could sense her hesitation, 18 spoke up. “I won’t tell your dad if that’s what you’re worried about. I understand if you want to protect Gohan.”

“I don’t,” Marron said. Her mother tilted her head slightly and Marron frowned. “I’m sorry to be so blunt. My reluctance doesn’t come from any desire to protect him, only a desire to not relive the past. That man as I knew him was not the same one he was before Frieza came. He did everything he was told to and usually, that meant executions. Sometimes, though… sometimes Bulla was too much for a normal guard to deal with. Having to listen to her scream so much whenever he was around was...it was very difficult.”

“You said the mask played a part,” 18 said. “Do you really believe that even without it he’s any different?”

Marron gave a half-hearted shrug. “If he is, it wouldn’t change anything for me. It doesn’t really matter to me who or what he was before Frieza came. I can appreciate what he means to dad. I understand that. But I don’t think... I don’t think I can just forget what he’s done. Mask or not.”

18 eyed her a moment, but the knock at the door brought an end to the conversation. Marron looked up and watched as her mother answered it, then stood when 18 stepped aside to allow Mai inside. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “There’s someone here who says she needs to speak with you.”

“Anyone we know?” 18 asked. Mai shook her head.

“I don’t think so, but she says she knows Trunks,” she said. As she moved out of the way, a woman with warm skin and teal hair approached, pausing long enough to offer a quick bow. Marron smiled politely and waved her hand.

“I’m not part of Frieza’s echelon anymore, so there’s no need for that,” she said.

“Right. I apologize then,” the woman said. “My name’s Pasley. I’m...or I was an Armored Forces officer alongside Trunks. I came here from Central City a few hours ago hoping to speak to you.”

Marron took a moment to note how guarded Pasley appeared, even as she told them what she presumed was the truth. Her eyes occasionally darted toward 18 though she did her best to hold Marron’s gaze the longest. “I take it you left for a reason, then. Were you sent here for something?”

“No, ma’am,” Pasley started, then cleared her throat. “Ah, sorry. No, I wasn’t sent. I came on my own after...after Trunks disappeared.”

Marron closed her eyes and nodded. Gohan had told them about Trunks’ disappearance into the rift just a few weeks ago, though it’d managed to slip her mind. Part of her hoped Gohan had been mistaken. “Yes, I was very sorry to hear that. He was a good man, and so was Goten.”

“They’re not dead,” Pasley said quickly. “Look, I didn’t stick around there for long. I, uh...his dad clearly didn’t want me around and I wasn’t about to wait around for him to beat me into a pulp. But I was in Central City long enough to pick up on some stuff. Stuff I thought you might want to know.”

That piqued Marron’s interest well enough, though she feigned confusion to mask her curiosity. “What makes you think that?”

The smile that touched Pasley’s lips was a knowing one. “Well, I guess I figured you and Bulla might be cut from at least some of the same cloth. According to Almone, she had a pretty good number of spies on call, so…”

“What do you want?” 18 abruptly interjected. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to tell us anything out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s exactly what I’m doing?” Pasley countered. “Trunks is...I care about him. A lot. I want to do whatever I can to make sure that when he comes home, he’s not coming home just to die.”

“You _say_ you know Trunks, but how are we supposed to trust you?” Mai asked. Her question seemed particularly sharp, although it hardly seemed to faze Pasley at all.

“It’d be pretty stupid of me to come all this way by myself just to lie about something like that, don’t you think?” she answered. “I’ve been Trunks’ partner for years. I could tell you everything I know about him if you want, but we’d really just be wasting our time.”

“I believe you. But I am curious why Vegeta didn’t want you around,” Marron said. That seemed to strike a nerve and Pasley looked away from her now too, her mouth curving into a small frown as she stared hard at the ground.

“It’s...it’s my fault he’s gone. I fell behind and if he hadn’t gone back for me, he would still be here,” Pasley said with a tight voice. “Anyway... his dad’s been pretty angry ever since, so I figured it’d be best to just stay as far out of his way as possible. I laid low for a while and then came here as soon as I realized what the Saiyans were up to.”

18 and Mai exchanged a look while Marron maintained a steady gaze on Pasley. “And what is it they’re up to?” Marron asked.

Pasley shifted her weight and took a moment to consider before she answered. “The thing that took Trunks didn’t happen just randomly. One of their scientists was experimenting and things must’ve gone wrong. I thought at first that it was just a fluke but then I overheard a few of them talking about the king ordering them to take some machine out to Blake Bog and run their tests there. From what it sounded like, they were looking for something specific.”

“That isn’t far from here, but it still doesn’t tell us much,” 18 said. “They could just as easily be trying to find Goku and the others themselves.”

“I thought that at first too. Except it really didn’t sound like that’s what they were after,” Pasley said, shaking her head. “Once Bulma went in after them, I overheard one of them talking about how she’d made a device that allows them to control those things to a degree. Right now it seems like all they can do is open and close them.”

“So they’re going to weaponize them,” Mai said, but Pasley shook her head.

“I don’t think so. Again, they were _looking_ for something specific. But their head scientist guy — Rottece, I think — mentioned...” Pasley trailed off, almost as if uncertain about what she was saying.

“Mentioned what?” 18 pressed, stepping forward.

“It sounds stupid. But they said something about finding a...a wish dragon.” She shook her head incredulously. “I don’t know. It sounds insane to me, but they seemed pretty convinced of it. At least enough to start running their tests.”

For as uncertain as Pasley was, Marron felt none of it herself. A rush of memories came flooding back to her, so vividly that they may as well have happened just a few days before. Memories of seven orange balls coming together and a massive green dragon erupting from them. More than once had she witnessed the power of a wishing dragon, and the thought of these Saiyans having access to such power filled her with a sense of unease. She glanced at her mother. While there was no outward appearance of the same dread, 18 caught her gaze and allowed her daughter to see her own uncertainty.

“They must be trying to find a way to find the dragon balls,” Mai said, breaking the silence. “That’s the only explanation. But why?”

“What do you think, Marron?” 18 looked her way then, taking her by surprise.

Marron considered the other women for a moment before she stepped back and returned to her chair. It felt as if too many things were going through her mind at once and she needed a minute to gather them. Even with everything she knew about Frieza, she suddenly felt so useless, so unhelpful faced with what she didn’t know about the Saiyans or the Rifts. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was one person who _did_ know. One who could find out more if he wanted.

“I think I need to send a few messages first,” she said at last. “There are a few questions I need answers to.”


	4. Gohan

Once, a long time ago, Son Gohan imagined a hero. Someone who would swoop in and save people from evildoers and inspire others to do the same. He got a costume, came up with some cool poses, and spent his days beating up bad guys. The Great Saiyaman was everything he thought a hero should be and did everything he thought a hero should do. His dad had never been one for spectacle in that regard, but he’d supported the idea nonetheless.

Like everything else, it seemed like too distant a memory to be true. Some days he struggled to remember things clearly, even people’s faces. He barely recognized his own mother sometimes. Twenty years of the same voice in his head overwhelming every thought he had made it difficult to tell what was real and what was something his mind dreamed up to keep from going insane. He was pretty sure he once fought a little slug man, but honestly that sentence alone was enough to make him second guess himself.

For now, he had all his wits about him. His mind was sharp and focused, thoughts concentrated on the death and destruction he’d come across only a few days ago. Lacco Village had been so small and so insignificant. They might have been left alone had they managed to hide their able-bodied children in time. Instead, they’d been slaughtered. It made his blood boil to see the carnage.

He’d been tracking those responsible for days. Chigo had been sending out recruiters to steal able-bodied children from their homes to be remade into soldiers for his army. The recruiters were different from the other Forces soldiers — they were a special breed of terrible in his opinion. They were specifically tasked with terrorizing people into giving up the things they held most dear; their children, their friends, their neighbors. All to bolster Frieza’s army and make him even stronger once he returned. And Gohan really did think Frieza’s return was inevitable; he’d grown so powerful that at this point Gohan seriously doubted anyone could ever truly defeat him. If they had any hope of fighting him a second time, then it relied solely on Bulma being able to find his father.

But that was another thought for another time.

He followed the recruiters into the Gizard Wasteland. Massive craters and half-destroyed rock littered the region, a reminder of a meeting between two Saiyans a lifetime ago. He watched them set up camp on top of a plateau. Watched them kick the side of the transport vehicle they had following them to silence the crying inside. Gohan glared harshly at the sight, but he had to be patient. He had to wait for the right opening.

It came before dawn. The man tasked with keeping watch dozed off, giving Gohan the perfect opportunity to attack. He moved quickly and silently, just as he’d done weeks before in the paddy fields of Toto Village. He didn’t enjoy what he did to those men, not really, but he didn’t regret a second of it either. Their untouched food and water would be the only thing that remained of them, and before he left, he made sure to break off the lock to the back of the truck. With any luck, those people would find new homes safely out of the wasteland.

As the sun came up, Gohan settled on the top of a cliffside, far away from the villagers he’d just freed. He allowed himself a moment of rest, a moment of peace, a moment of just nothing. Between the rifts appearing throughout the world and the war coming down on innocent people, he knew he was spreading himself too thin by taking so much time out of his days to deal with it all. In a few hours, he’d be back in South City. Back with people who remembered a version of him that he really couldn’t anymore. He’d have to put on a show for them, especially his poor mother, to assure them that he was fine. He understood now why Piccolo preferred to be alone so often. It was more exhausting than any of the fighting he’d been doing for the last two months. 

Two months. That’s how long it’d been since his brother had disappeared. At first, he’d considered taking Vegeta up on his offer and going to the Saiyan ship. He wanted to go in himself, wanted to find his brother and bring him back. He wanted to find the source of the other rifts and put a stop to them. He wanted his mother safe and happy, after all she’d been through. There was so much he wanted to do, if not for the voice.

Even without the mask, the voice haunted him still. It whispered in his ear constantly, things that he didn’t or simply couldn’t understand. Things he didn’t _want_ to understand, maybe. He didn’t know who it belonged to, only that it was part of how Frieza controlled him. Twenty years of it saying the same things over and over and over again until it overwhelmed him, twenty years of his body not being his anymore, twenty years of his mind getting scrambled to the point where even now, even as he stood staring out at the horizon, he couldn’t be entirely sure any of it was real.

Off in the distance, a purple mass swirled slowly in the air, and he’d already learned that the closer he got to it the more pronounced those whispers became. The mask had only been a conduit to something more powerful, more sinister. If he had gone after his brother, would he have been able to fight against it? Or just succumb to his own weakness all over again like he had so many times now?

_What’s done is done,_ he told himself firmly. He turned away from the mass and looked out toward the sea again. Gohan originally meant to go to Blake Bog for a few days to clear his head before heading back to South City, but after the mess in Poi Poi Village with those soldiers and those kids...he’d been a little more delayed than he intended. Those Saiyans he caught skulking around were a lot tougher than they looked and it didn’t hurt to keep an eye on the village while he allowed himself to heal up. He left when he realized those rumors about a protective spirit were in reference to what he’d done. If he lingered too long and those rumors spread, it’d only bring more chaos to those people.

Gohan made sure to fly above the clouds and keep focused on hiding his power level. It was always hard to tell when he might come across Saiyans, so better to be safe than sorry. Just as he approached the beach, however, a sudden wave of energy struck him seemingly out of nowhere. He came to an abrupt stop and jerked his attention toward the direction it’d come from, his eyes narrowing as he stared hard in the distance. Something about that energy seemed familiar. Too familiar. Almost like he knew it.

_Dad?_ No. It couldn’t be. There was no way, not unless Bulma actually succeeded. But if she had, he’d be able to sense Goten and Trunks too, right? She wouldn’t have come back without them, but there was simply no mistaking it. Gohan knew that ki better than anyone’s. It was coming from somewhere far away in the complete opposite direction of South City. Not that it mattered — without a second thought, he changed course, hurtling through the sky straight for the source of that energy.

The air got progressively colder as he went further and further north until at one point he could see his own breath in front of him. Winter had just touched the land. Snow drifted down from gray clouds lazily, turning the ground white. The energy he’d been sensing was stronger than ever, yet as he got closer to it he caught sight of deep black smoke curling into the air. He slowed and began to descend cautiously, eyes sweeping over the devastation in front of him. A small collection of homes were still burning and several bodies lay strewn about.

Voices screamed out and he hurried to seek them out, but when he did all he found was confusion. The energy that he’d been so sure had belonged to his father was coming from the thing terrorizing them, but it most certainly was _not_ Son Goku. Whoever or whatever it was, they were tall and imposing, surrounded by a deep violet aura but he could make out shades of green on its...well, he wasn’t sure if he’d call it skin, not really. It seemed to have wings of some kind and a long tail that curled at the end, and its head was long and slightly pointed at the top.

It wasn’t his father. So why did it have his energy? There wasn’t much time to consider the mystery beyond that question; a dozen terrified villagers cowered before it, but just as it raised its hand, Gohan rushed forward and slammed his knee into its side to send it flying into a nearby mountain.

“Go!” he ordered the villagers. They didn’t need telling twice and quickly scattered into the nearby woods just as the creature came back. He turned to face it in time to see its oddly human-like face break into a smile.

“ _Gohan?_ Is that really you?” 

He paused. The creature seemed to know him and some small part of Gohan recognized it too. But when he searched his mind for something, anything, that would jog his memory, he found nothing. So he said nothing, instead moving into a more defensive position while he watched the creature eye him.

“It _is_ you, isn’t it? Well, well! Here you are, all grown up and still as eager as ever to take on daddy’s job of saving all these pathetic little people everywhere you go. Or are you just looking for a good fight?” it said. Gohan didn’t answer. “The silent treatment? _Really?_ After all we’ve been through? I’m wounded, Gohan.”

He ignored it and moved rapidly, leaving behind only a brief image of himself as he snapped closer to the creature. The second he got close enough he swung his fist into its cheek, sending it hurtling sideways into the ground but as it dropped it was quick to sweep his legs out from under him. Gohan reached back to catch himself, using his other hand to fire a small ki blast into its chest just as it stood to lunge at him. His hand touched the ground only for a second when he used it as leverage to push himself up and slam both feet into its stomach. It stumbled back but recovered quickly, taking a few steps back to smile at him menacingly.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious as to _how_ I managed to come back?” it said. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to guess or at least asked me about it. You put so much effort into killing me once before yet here you are without even so much as a _hello_.” When Gohan still didn’t reply, his silence seemed to irritate it enough into scowling. “Have you gone sour at your age or are you just deaf now?”

“You said I killed you once?” Gohan said as he jumped back away from it. Its scowl turned into a satisfied smirk and it nodded.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how good it felt to let loose. It’s just a shame you won’t be doing that again, now that I’ve returned to settle things between us. You put in quite the—”

Gohan interrupted it with a strike to the jaw, his fist connecting into the side of its face so hard it made a sickening crunch. He used his other to uppercut it into the air and then gathered enough energy between his palms to send a blast so strong it vaporized the creature into dust with little more than enough time for it to let out a short yell.

“Twice now,” he muttered to no one in particular. He watched the ashy remains of it blow away into the wind. Even now, though, he could still feel his father’s energy and yet...

He looked up and caught sight of something beginning to manifest above him — purple and black seemed to bubble in the sky and he realized too late what it was. Suddenly, a shock rattled through his bones, forcing him to his knees before he could so much as react to it. A rush of indistinct whispers flooded his mind, like sharp needles scraping every inch of his brain and no matter how hard he pressed his hands to his ears nothing would block them out.

The ground below him slowly began to collapse from the sheer pressure of energy he was unwillingly releasing, building until he let loose a surge of light that knocked by trees and reduced massive boulders into rubble. Even in this state, he knew that if he didn’t bring it under control then this entire area was in danger. Somehow, his father’s energy was still there, still as present as it was when he first felt it. Gohan twisted his aching body around to look up at the rift and brought two shaking hands together and focused as much concentrated energy as he could possibly grasp right now. He reached for his father’s energy too, hoping beyond hope that it meant he wasn’t alone. That whatever was happening, he wasn’t fighting it on his own.

As the light between his hands shot up into the sky, he struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to watch as it struck the rift. At first, nothing seemed to happen — the whispers were still there, his mind was still clouded by that ever oppressive fog, and his whole body shook with the amount of effort it was taking to even stay conscious. But he was still aware enough to watch the light rumble through the rift, breaking apart the bits of black and purple. Whatever he did, it seemed to work.

The whispers faded slowly while every muscle in his body felt like they were liquefying. He was vaguely aware of the smell of dirt and snow around him as he lay unmoving in the center of a self-made crater. The sound of approaching voices reached his ringing ears, but for the life of him, he couldn’t muster enough strength to sit up, let alone get out of there before they arrived. Darkness enveloped his vision just as the voices turned into blurred figures, and the last thought he remembered having was of his father.

When his eyes opened again, it took him a minute or so for his vision to adjust. It was dark wherever he was, though by the way the ceiling curved above him he had to assume he was in a capsule home of some kind. A heavy blanket covered him from the neck down and as he set up and allowed it to fall from his chest, the chilly air struck him almost immediately. 

A woman gasped from the doorway. “Oh! Y-You’re awake!”

She was a short woman with long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail that hung over her right shoulder. In her arms, she carried a small pile of what looked to be neatly folded clothes. For a moment, neither said anything before she awkwardly cleared her throat and lifted the clothes up slightly.

“I noticed you didn’t have a jacket,” she said. “It’s pretty cold up here. I’m surprised you didn’t freeze to death out there.” She stood there uncomfortably for a moment before she made an attempt at a smile. “Your shirt, I mean. That says ‘spirit,’ doesn’t it? That’s lovely stitching.”

Gohan remained quiet. He had a lot of questions on his mind, but none of them were forming into words just yet. When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, she hesitantly moved further into the room and brought the clothes over to a small dresser on the wall opposite of the bed he was on. She retreated back to the door fairly quickly, though she paused long enough to face him again.

“Um, if you’re hungry, we’ve got plenty of food to share. It’s the least we can do,” she said. She waited a moment but when he still didn’t respond she left, closing the door on her way out. Gohan sat there a little while longer, mulling over his muddled thoughts as he tried to grasp everything that had happened. By the looks of it, it was still daytime, though it occurred to him that it could be another day entirely by now. Naturally, he considered just leaving without a word, but he _was_ pretty hungry and the smell of food was plenty of incentive to remember his manners. 

So he pushed off the rest of the blanket and moved to grab the clothes. The jacket was slightly too small, though just in the way that the sleeves barely reached his wrists. His current pair of pants were fine enough, but the boots that seemed to have been left by the dresser as well were a welcome addition. When he exited the room, he was met by curious glances and silence. Two men and two women, including the woman who had brought him the clothes, stared at him warily. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your generosity,” he said with a hoarse voice. That seemed to help ease the tension from the room, at least enough that they offered polite smiles in response.

“Well of course!” one man with a booming voice said. “If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead meat.”

Gohan nodded. He really didn’t doubt that statement, but he realized how that might’ve looked. “I’m glad I could help.”

He joined them at the table in the center of the room while an older woman began bringing plates and bowls to them. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the noodles, rice, eggs, and fish. Regardless, he was careful not to eat too much too quickly. No use in freaking them out anymore than he clearly already had. Two helpings didn’t do much, but he’d worry about eating more later.

He hadn’t missed how the young woman who’d brought him clothes had been watching him the whole time he ate. “Where are you from?” she asked abruptly. “Sorry, it’s just...we don’t see a lot of people up here, least of all people who can do what you can.”

“East,” he said automatically. “Near Satan City.”

“I’m surprised anyone’s still living near that place,” the old woman said. “What brings you so far north?”

Gohan considered them a moment before he answered. “I was looking for someone, but he’s not here.”

“Looks like we really lucked out then,” the old man said. “We owe you one big time, young man.”

Young. It almost made him laugh. He was just shy of fifty at this point, but he supposed those Saiyan genes did a good job of hiding it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “But I’m not sure how much safer you’ll be for long. All that fighting’s sure to have caught some attention.”

“It did, but we took care of it,” the younger man said. “Some Forces came by looking for what caused it. We told ‘em we saw some of those alien guys heading to North City. Which we did, but it was a few days ago.”

“That should keep them busy at least for a little while,” the younger woman said.

“So, do you have a name?” The old woman was smiling, but her question had everyone looking straight at him. He paused for probably too long, his mind weighing the options he had; obviously, he could lie. But on the one hand, the chances of anyone knowing who Son Gohan was was slim to none. Most people that knew the name figured him dead over twenty years ago. On the other, if they knew that name, if they knew what it meant to the Forces and to the Saiyans, it could spell trouble for all of them. But then again, he wouldn’t be here long either way so he supposed it didn’t matter.

“It’s Gohan, ma’am,” he said. To his relief, there was little reaction other than a few polite nods. They each took their turns introducing themselves; the old couple were Soi and Malon, and the younger two were Valese and Hausu. Basic conversation continued only for a little while longer until they each slowly dispersed. 

Malon excused himself first, stepping back outside to return to his work on a damaged car. Gohan kept a close watch on him initially, careful to look for any sign of the old man alerting anyone to his presence, but found none. As Hausu left to join Malon and Soi began the cleanup, Gohan returned to the room he’d woken up in to fold up the bed. It was the least he could do before leaving. The sound of someone lightly tapping on the doorway drew his attention to Valese, who quickly cleared her throat and folded her hands in front of her.

“Oh. You’re leaving so soon?” she asked. 

He glanced down at the partially folded bed and nodded. “It’s for the best. Trust me.”

“I see. I’ll take your word for it, then. But before you go, may I ask you something?” Valese asked. When he nodded, she hesitated and stepped into the room, turning around quickly to shut the door. The action immediately put him on edge, though he was careful not to show it. She turned back around to face him and a look of uncertainty crossed her features. “You said your name was Gohan. As in, _Son_ Gohan?”

He stood a little straighter and glanced back at her in surprise. He’d expected the older couple to maybe have an idea of who he was, especially given the number of broadcasts that went around that specifically named his family in the earlier days of Frieza’s reign. But this woman seemed a little too young for that; if he had to guess, he’d put her at around the same age as Goten. Either she had an amazing memory, or there was more to her question.

“Yes,” he said. He couldn’t figure out her intentions if he didn’t at least give her that. She gave a small sigh of relief and smiled brightly as if his confirmation meant something to her.

“I knew it! When I saw you fight, I knew you had to be related! Plus, you two look so much alike,” she said. “Y-You _are_ Goten’s brother, right?”

“You know Goten?” he asked, unable to mask his surprise. 

“I do, yes. Or I did. I used to travel with him and Chi-Chi after they saved my family,” she said. “We were very close at one point.”

Gohan didn’t need to work too hard to understand what she meant. It made sense, he supposed. Goten had twenty years to live out there, so it was only a matter of time before he came across someone who knew him. “I’ll be sure to let him know we crossed paths.”

“Actually, I’ve been wondering where he was these days. The last time I saw him was when we came to this village, but it’s been a few years since then,” she said. “I understand if you can’t take me yourself. I’d just like a chance to catch up with him.”

He finished folding up the bed, during which he realized he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to her. “Goten’s...not really around right now.”

She gasped lightly. “Th-They didn’t finally find him, did they?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s hard to explain,” he said. “The Saiyans have him. He’s alive, but you won’t be able to see him for a while.”

“I see. So, Central City then? I heard those Saiyans took the city over,” she said.

“Right. But like I said, you won’t be able to see him for a while.” Gohan moved to gather his shirt and shoes, then folded his shoes inside of the shirt so they’d be easier to carry.

“I’ve heard the Saiyans are keeping people in Central City safe,” she said. “Is that true?”

If he thought it would make a difference, Gohan might’ve told her his doubts surrounding that. When they first showed up, they had no problem destroying towns and settlements left and right. It wasn’t until they took over Central City and Vegeta finally agreed to stay with them that they seemed to slow their rampage. He also might’ve told her South City was a better bet, but given how far away they were between here and there, he doubted she and her small group would make it that far without getting caught between the Forces and the Saiyans.

_I could take them,_ a small voice in his head suggested. He quickly quashed it. If he’d learned anything since he met them, it was that he couldn’t trust himself. The next time a rift like that appeared, or he got distracted, who was to say he wouldn’t be the thing that killed them? Besides, with the Saiyans and Frieza’s men both looking for him, they wouldn’t be safe either way.

“Gohan?” Valese was looking at him curiously, and he realized he hadn’t answered her. He quickly cleared his throat.

“I couldn’t say,” he said. “I don’t go near the cities myself.”

“But if that’s where Goten is, then it must be safe,” she said.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in that. We’re half-Saiyan, so it’s different for him. But it’s up to you to decide what you want to do.”

Valese nodded her understanding, then offered a smile. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” She followed him out of the house and walked beside him quietly until they reached the road. “Thanks for everything, Gohan. It was really lucky that you came when you did.”

“Yeah. Yeah, lucky,” he said. “Stay safe, alright?”

“We will! Good luck finding whoever you’re looking for,” she said.

As he put the little village further and further behind him, Gohan couldn’t help but think about what led him there in the first place. It hadn’t escaped him that ever since he woke up, he hadn’t been able to feel his father’s energy when before it had been the sole reason he’d come. That creature clearly wasn’t the actual source of it, and the rift hadn’t appeared until after Gohan killed that thing, yet the energy seemed to have vanished along with it.

Nothing made sense. Either someone managed to replicate his father’s energy, or...no, the alternative wasn’t possible. From the way Vegeta made it sound when he passed on Bulma’s explanation, his dad, Goten, and Trunks were all stuck in a place outside of their own dimension. The idea that he’d somehow found a way to break through that just to help Gohan fight that thing and close the rift was insane.

Well, then again...it made sense. If anyone could find a way to break through space and time like it was nothing, it was definitely Son Goku.

There were a lot of things that seemed far away to Gohan, but the memory of his father really didn’t seem too distant at all. For all of Frieza’s efforts, for all of his success in so many other areas, that was the _one thing_ he couldn’t take away. And maybe, just maybe, Gohan could learn to live with that memory without an overwhelming sense of guilt accompanying it.


	5. Vegeta

Not for the first time did Vegeta acknowledge he always made a better soldier than he did a spy. That much was becoming more and more obvious the longer he kept up the pretense that he actually gave a damn about what his father was up to, or what the Saiyans were doing in general. If it didn’t have to do with fighting back Frieza’s men, he couldn’t care any less. At the very least, his apparent newfound goodwill toward the king was returned with acceptance of his terms. He’d forced the Saiyans into keeping their bloodlust in check and having them take it out on Frieza’s army instead. It was only borrowed time, and he knew that. But it was all they really had for now anyway.

To his annoyance, one of the side-effects seemed to be giving the king the idea that Vegeta was actually playing from a political angle. That his intentions were rooted in a desire to shift public perception of the Saiyans and break down Frieza’s hold on the planet that way. His father had called him unusually perceptive. Vegeta would’ve called it a waste of time if it didn’t mean breaking his promise to Bulma to keep the planet safe. So he played along, as annoying and tedious as the whole thing was.

Of all the things that annoyed him about this new arrangement, his daughter’s involvement with the king was on the very top of the list. She was practically chasing every single inch of gain into the king’s inner circle and he’d made the mistake of being absent just long enough for the king to give her that. But Chigo had advanced too far into the area and he didn’t trust that the king’s men would be enough to push back against the incredible energy he’d sensed. As it turned out, he was right not to. 

While that mess was being sorted, Vegeta’s attention was right back on his daughter. He had hoped her pregnancy and Goten’s abrupt absence would slow her down, but even that was asking for too much. With that hope cleanly dashed, he decided to focus on her training as much as he could, seeing as that was the only thing that held her interest for long enough. Truth be told, it made him a little uneasy to spar with his daughter knowing she was pregnant. Bulma had the same problem of refusing to take it easy, but at least she wasn’t running around getting punched.

Fortunately, he’d managed to convince Bulla to start working on her ki control. They sat across from each other, legs crossed and her eyes closed while he watched her. The baby she carried had an incredible energy signature, but it was useless if Bulla didn’t know how to use her own. And if she kept relying on it’s, then they’d be right back where they started by the time she gave birth. Still, as serious as it was, it frustrated him to know that it didn’t seem like she was nearly as interested as she should’ve been. Every time she shifted slightly, he scowled.

“Concentrate, Bulla,” he finally said.

“I _am_ ,” she hissed.

“You’re clearly not.”

She opened her eyes to glare at him. “I’m doing my best.”

“This is your best?” Vegeta snorted. “If you don’t start taking this seriously, Bulla, then you can forget about training.”

“I told you, I _am_ taking this seriously! It’s just...it’s hard to focus right now,” she said. “I have a headache.”

“Ignore it, then,” he said.

Her glare sharpened. “I’m trying. It’s not that simple.”

“Try _harder_.”

There was a sudden spike in her energy, but he caught it early enough that he had time to tilt his head away from the small burst of light as it shot by him. As per usual, that hadn’t been her intended action and she held her hands against her chest while she cursed under her breath. Her cheeks were red and silence fell in the room as more eyes in the training arena found them, though Vegeta ignored them.

“It’s like I said: try harder. The longer you put off learning how to control it, the worse it’ll be when you have that baby and lose its power,” he said. “Unless you really are content to always rely on everyone else to do the work for you.”

That seemed to strike a nerve for her. Bulla jumped to her feet and lashed out almost instantly, but for as fast as she managed to move, Vegeta was still faster. He blocked the first hit easily, then the second and third, until he grabbed both of her hands and twisted her around so that her arms were wrapped around her body and he was able to hold her in place.

Denying her the outlet for her frustration only aggravated her further and she let out an angry yell, energy surging off of her. It threw him off — the level of energy she was giving off was far greater than he was anticipating, especially considering it didn’t seem to be coming entirely from her baby. For once, this was all Bulla’s power, similar to the spark he’d seen months ago before he came to the ship. But it was his turn to be annoyed. If she actually _knew_ how to harness that power, or bothered to listen to him when he was trying to teach her, she might’ve been able to ascend beyond her base form easily. To add to his irritation, it wasn’t taking long for her to begin letting that energy slip away from her.

He scoffed. “Well? Is that _all_ you can do? Throw little temper tantrums and then give up right away?”

Bulla tried in vain to shrug him off and when that didn’t work she tried to kick him, but that immense power he’d felt just a second ago was already gone. She tried again and when he still didn’t budge she stopped. He growled and shook her lightly. She was so damn close just a second ago. Why the hell was she so eager to throw in the towel?

“Come on, damn it! You’re really just going to—”

It was the sniffle that cut him off. That, and the feeling of something wet on his arm. Vegeta froze as his mind worked to piece together what it was. She began trembling and when the sniffling turned into quiet sobs, he released her. She took a few steps forward and covered her face with her hands, muffling her own cries.

Ah. Crying. She was crying. This...this was not his area. This was Bulma’s thing, dealing with their children when they cried. Or at least, when he wasn’t around to tell Trunks to _stop_ crying. When Bulla had cried, that was because she was still practically a baby anyway and it made perfect sense for her to cry. And it never really bothered him then either, since she was _Bulla_ and she was little. Except now, she wasn’t so little anymore. She was still Bulla, sure, only she was older and stronger than she used to be. He should’ve told her what he would’ve told Trunks — suck it up, stop being such a little brat, quit acting like a spoiled shit, grow up, but...

Instead, he stepped closer, standing off to her side and turning so that his body blocked any curious gazes that might look their way. The others seemed too busy training to pay them much mind at the moment, but if they happened to look over they wouldn’t see her like this. Bulla abruptly stopped crying long enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye warily, and he quickly looked away before she caught his gaze as she returned to quietly sobbing. Part of him wondered if he should do something. Didn’t Bulma insist on physical contact when the kids were upset? A pat on the shoulder would suffice, wouldn’t it? Or...or maybe the back? Damn it. This whole thing annoyed him, if only for the fact that he had no idea what to do. 

Ultimately, he chose to do nothing, reasoning that it would only draw unwanted attention anyway. Saiyans were not typically affectionate, at least not outwardly and for as irritating as her being so close to the king was, he knew that acknowledging her tears would only make her look weak in their eyes. Her blood and looks were already a challenge she’d have to overcome if she wanted their respect as their princess — if they saw her crying, it’d be over.

Finally, when her tears began to subside, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Are you done?” he asked, still not quite looking fully at her. She nodded weakly, wiping her face off with the backs of her hands until he handed her the towel he had draped around his neck. “Don’t let them see you.”

“I know,” she muttered. “I tried to stop...I-I couldn’t...it just...”

“Hmph. It doesn’t matter.” He turned and made for the door, pausing only to glance back at her. “Come on, we might as well eat something.”

She looked at him in surprise. “But what about training?”

“There’s no use continuing on when you’ve already hit your limit. Besides, that annoying doctor said you needed to eat more anyway,” he said. It felt like a betrayal to everything he’d ever done for himself, though he supposed that was the point. Bulla wasn’t him, despite how similar they were to one another. But she had more to offer than blind rage and a thirst for revenge, even if she didn’t quite see it yet.

They ate in relative silence, save for the occasional orders one of them would bark the attendants by the door. By the time they were finished, neither had said a word to one another the entire meal. The silence continued as the attendants hurried to clear the table. Vegeta sat back and folded his arms, his eyes closing while he waited for them to finish. When he opened them again, Bulla had leaned back in her seat and turned her attention to the nearby window. She almost looked confused, but her expression hardened when she realized he was looking her way.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked. She paused and turned to face him, but said nothing at first. “Earlier, when we were training. I know you felt it too.”

“Nothing. I was just mad at you for being so annoying,” she said. 

“ _Annoying?_ ” Vegeta scoffed. “Don’t give me that crap. If annoying you was all it took to reach those levels, you’d have actually gotten somewhere months ago. What changed?”

Bulla shrugged. “Maybe the crazy strong baby in me? Avoca says it’s getting stronger every day.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “I can tell the difference between your energies, so just tell me what it was.”

“I don’t know,” she said, irritably.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You were thinking about Goten, weren’t you?”

Just as he thought, that struck a nerve for her. She shot him a sharp glare, her mouth thinned into an angry frown and her cheeks flushed pink. “I wasn’t! I couldn’t care less about that idiot, so I definitely wasn’t thinking about him! Is it so hard to believe that you really were annoying me enough to piss me off?”

He watched her closely, felt for the same energy she’d given off before, but all he found was a brief spark and then it was gone again. In fact, she almost seemed to recoil unconsciously from it, as if that split second was enough to drive her back. He thought that maybe he was just imagining it, but for a moment it seemed as if she reacted more out of pain than anything else. Just as he resolved to push her further, to make her confront that energy and contend with it like he knew she’d have to eventually, she visibly winced and her hand dropped down to her stomach. 

“I...I’m leaving,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked. It was easy to hide his concern behind irritation, though he refused to look away from her.

“It’s the joys of being pregnant, _dad_ ,” she grumbled. “I’m sure you don’t need me to go into detail.”

 _Damn it._ That baby was getting in the way of her training more and more every day. There already wasn’t much time left to train her before she’d have to stop, and since he could offer her very little outside of their training sessions, it meant she’d have even more reason to focus on whatever it was she had going with the king and his lackeys. He closed his eyes and nodded stiffly, and didn’t open them again until he heard the door close behind her. His gaze stayed where she’d been sitting while his mind mulled over everything and nothing all at once. With Bulma gone and his hands effectively tied, Vegeta found it infuriatingly difficult not to just give in to the urge to rush everything. Ending the war, destroying what was left of Frieza’s men, killing whoever needed to be killed — it all seemed so _easy_ to just be done with. Get it over with so they could move onto the next problem and get rid of that one too, until something actually worth his time came along.

Vegeta returned to the training arena only to be welcomed by a surge of energy. Three Saiyans were fighting against one in the middle of the arena, with all three barely matching each other’s power levels while the one in the middle easily overwhelmed them. The scene piqued his interest enough that he joined the small crowd of onlookers as the four continued their battle. One man was lifted and flung their way, crumbling into a heap of broken bones in front of them. Another was sent flying not long after until it was just one on one. Vegeta instantly recognized the stronger one — it was the same man Raditz had pulled from the wreckage of one of Chigo’s ships. The Saiyan prince’s gaze remained locked onto the man’s as he moved, noting just how precise and decisive everything he did was. Something in his motions seemed nearly familiar, but Vegeta couldn’t quite recall where he’d seen it before. All that mattered right now was how he made quick work of his last opponent, whose defeat was met with loud jeers and hollers. The man stood in the center of the arena, panting heavily and glaring at the floor before him.

“Ch-Cheated! That bastard cheated!” One of the defeated men managed to find his legs and stumbled forward to point at the man accusingly.

“Shut up, Celer,” another man spat, wiping the corner of his mouth off with the back of his hand. “You’re just weak.”

“He beat you too, Ardish! How do you explain that, huh?!” 

“Lucky shot!” Ardish shouted. The argument devolved into pointless squabbling, but the man they were arguing about hadn’t so much as flinched. Instead, he caught Vegeta’s gaze and the pair stared at one another before the prince stepped forward.

“Tch. It’s obvious that he’s too much for any of you to handle,” Vegeta said. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Which means he just might not waste my time.”

The crowd surrounding him backed away as he approached. While he didn’t sense any obvious changes in the man’s power level, it was clear by the way he adjusted his stance that he was preparing for an actual fight this time. Vegeta waited for his opponent to make the first move and was mildly surprised at how fast the other man rushed him. He was quick to adjust his own footing, taking on a defensive strategy for a few seconds while he studied the other’s strikes and movements. 

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, however, Vegeta was swift in his response. Every hit was landed with just as much precision as the last, with a flick of his wrist or twist of his leg to bring a hard punch or kick from one side. In just his base form, Vegeta knew any other Saiyan would have had a difficult time just keeping up with him. Yet somehow, this man defied that — while he wasn’t necessarily doing enough to be threatening, the man was still holding his own, occasionally surprising Vegeta by evading or a kick or punch of his own. 

One blow managed to knock him back a few feet, which gave him enough time to take a step back and adjust his footing. “This would be a lot more interesting if you were fighting back,” he said.

The man took the opportunity to adjust his own stance, shifting his weight and eyeing Vegeta quietly. There was a familiarity there again, somewhere in the way he was looking at him, but Vegeta still couldn’t quite place it.

“Forgive me,” the man said. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.” A wide, vicious smirk twisted itself across the man’s lips, instantly triggering his irritation. As energy built around the man, Vegeta had just enough time to comprehend the speed at which the man had suddenly moved — he managed to catch the incoming fist and use the man’s own momentum against him by bringing his elbow into the man’s face. It was then that he caught sight of the golden aura and yellow hair. Vegeta threw himself back and eyed the man.

“Surprised?” the man said. There was an air of smugness to his tone, a shift from his previously silent demeanor. “This is what you’d call a—”

“Super Saiyan,” Vegeta finished with an unimpressed scoff. “At least now you’ll actually put up a fight.”

Perhaps it was the dismissiveness of his tone that caught the man off guard, or perhaps it was the way the other Saiyans laughed at Vegeta’s apathy. Whatever it was, Vegeta watched as the man’s smirk turned into a scowl. 

“You’re gonna regret asking me to do that,” he said.

Vegeta couldn’t help the curl of his lips. “Oh, I doubt it.”

The man shot forward about as quickly as one would expect a Super Saiyan to be capable of. For the time being, it was a simple game of cat and mouse — for every swipe the man made at the prince, Vegeta simply evaded it or countered it was a quick but precise strike of his own. Despite remaining in his base form, it was clear that the man hadn’t expected to do as much work as Vegeta was forcing him to do.

“And here I thought I was supposed to regret this,” Vegeta mocked after the third time he’d caused the man to stumble forward. The man twisted around and attempted to swing at him, but by then Vegeta had decided to end their little game. He caught the incoming fist easily as he ascended beyond Super Saiyan. The man’s eyes widened with shock, though Vegeta didn’t grant him much time to realize what he was dealing with before he flung him backward and into the concrete wall. 

“ _Y-You_ ,” the man said, stumbling from the rubble. “That’s not possible. Only a select few are able to ascend.”

“Hmph. Is that so? Well then, why don’t you tell me who you think I am.”

Realization seemed to creep across the man’s face, aided in part by the collective laughter and jeers from the nearby crowd. The smirk on Vegeta’s face didn’t go anywhere, even when the man offered one of his own.

“I see. So, you’re the prince, huh?” he said. Vegeta nodded. “Good. I’ve been dying to test myself.”

It would be a lie if he said Vegeta had been expecting that. He knocked aside the first distracting ki blast and easily hopped away from the second, and managed to predict where the actual blows were going to come from. The fight only escalated from there, as if the man was spurred on by the challenge alone and Vegeta wasn’t about to back down himself. Every hit became progressively stronger and stronger, enough that it set Vegeta’s blood on fire in a way that he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d fought Kakarot. 

But for all of his raw strength, the man was still flawed by his inexperience. He was still young — if Vegeta had to guess, he’d put him at around Bulla’s age — and acted more in impulse than with any kind of real sense. At times it was almost too easy to lure him into a position that would send him into the ground or nearby wall. The end came when Vegeta had his foot pressed against the man’s neck, pushing him further down into the ground to hold him there. A collection of shouts and cheers filled the arena when the man held up one hand to signal his surrender, his hair and eyes returning to their natural state.

“You’re not half bad,” Vegeta said. He stepped away and folded his arms while the man brought himself to his feet, wiping his cheek off with the back of his hand. “How did you learn to go Super Saiyan?”

“My mentor taught me,” the man said. “Thanks for showing me what true strength is, Prince Vegeta.” He began to bow, but Vegeta scoffed and waved a hand. 

“Don’t grovel like the rest of these idiots,” he said. 

The man’s mouth spread into a smile. But something seemed to have grabbed his attention and he shifted his focus to something behind Vegeta abruptly. When Vegeta glanced back over his shoulder, he caught sight of Bulla standing among the other Saiyans, though her own eyes were locked onto the man. When she realized Vegeta had spotted her, however, she quickly turned and left.

 _What the hell? Did she just come here to watch?_ Vegeta thought. He didn’t get much time to think about it beyond that. No sooner had she left that the doors flung open again and Rottece came scurrying past the crowd, slowing only to offer a quick bow.

“My Prince! My Prince! Your wife — we’ve finally received word from her,” Rottece said through sharp breaths. Vegeta quickly lost interest in everything else at the mention of Bulma and followed Rottece out of the arena and back to the ship.

“Tell me what she said,” Vegeta demanded. “Has she found them yet? Are they ready to come back?”

“I’m afraid not,” Rottece said. “She reported that she and...ah, the girl are in good health, but she made mention that their path was interrupted by an outside force of some kind.”

“ _F_ _rieza?_ ” Vegeta hissed. Rottece shook his head.

“No. Or at least, she didn’t say it was him,” the scientist said. “I’m afraid she didn’t offer much detail on that front, but she did provide an approximate location. After reviewing it, I’ve discovered something quite remarkable about the nature of the rifts.”

He knew that tone. Vegeta never had the patience to listen to scientists as they worked, not even when it was Bulma doing the talking. Rottece reminded him less of Bulma and more of her insufferable father, especially when he got that glint in his eye that told Vegeta he was about to become extremely bored. “I don’t care about your discoveries unless it means making sure they all get out alive,” he snapped.

Rottece nodded enthusiastically. “That’s just it, Your Highness. I believe this is exactly what this information will do! You see, as we’ve suspected all along, it’s the same sort of portal that Frieza used to travel between to kill versions of you and Kakarot, and bring me and my people here. I believe he unknowingly left behind a trail for us to follow. We may be able to discover the source of his inexplicable power, as well as the other versions of himself that exist through these dimensions.”

Vegeta paused. It was all coming together. “And if we do that...then we can finish him off for good.”

“Not just him, Prince Vegeta. _Every_ version of him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Just wanted to make a quick note apologizing for the delay. Two things: one, I actually wrote like 4 chapters weeks ago that I cannot post until I get a few others between them to tie them together, so ideally things should move a bit faster now.
> 
> Two, I have major depression and had been struggling with some very dark thoughts, to the point where it has been affecting my ability to function...basically at all. I've sought help and am happy to say I'm receiving it, and I just wanted to take the time to say that if you find yourself in the same situation, don't be afraid to reach out to someone. It takes a lot of courage and a lot of effort to admit when you need help, but there's never any shame in doing so. Sometimes I have to remind myself of this as well.


	6. Goten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Like father](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275052), like son, right?

His eyes fluttered open and he watched the fan spin around and around above him. The air felt thick with humidity, and whenever he took in a breath it felt like he was taking in small gulps of water. One hand went up to rub his left eye — the damn thing was really bothering him — and he realized that something else felt...strange. Something underneath him.

He was in bed. Soft, silky. He wasn’t in bed before, he was pretty sure, but he was now. That was odd to him only because of that first part, the part where he was only pretty sure that he wasn’t in a bed before but that made no sense because that was typically where he wound up when he was tired. He blinked. And sat up. Who was he again?

_Son Goten._ Right. And he’d had a little too much wine the night before with his co-workers. Sure. That sounded about right.

Another sound that sounded right was the sound of a shower. He looked over at the closed door with light shining underneath it and realized that someone must have been in there. Which made sense because again, the shower was on. But _who_ was there? He struggled with that question for a moment before the door opened and she stepped out. Blue hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Beautiful.

He had no idea who she was.

“Finally awake, huh?” she said. Her voice was pretty. Airy. Soft. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever wake up.” She gathered her hair up over to one side and used a towel to squeeze it. His eyes never left her face, and her smile grew slightly wider when he kept staring. “Something wrong?”

“No, I...I just forgot...” he reached down to push the blanket off of himself and his eyes landed on the thing on his hand and that was a wedding ring he was pretty sure oh kami that’s a wedding ring. But it made sense that he was wearing a wedding ring because he was married. He was married to her. _They_ were married. Little details slowly came back, but then again they never really left. “I-I...I um...”

Abruptly, she sighed heavily. “Oh, for crying out loud. How much did you have to drink last night?” She crossed the room and put the back of her hand against his forehead. “Honestly, I should kick Jee’s ass myself.” He breathed in and she smelled wonderful. Like a fresh field. Or a waterfall. He leaned into her touch.

“I guess a lot,” he said awkwardly. “I’m having trouble remembering…” But she sat down next to him and suddenly he was having even more trouble tearing his eyes away from her body. Her breasts were barely covered by the towel she had on and every breath she took seemed to make it one slip away from falling. “...things.”

“Mhm. Look at me,” she said. Her hands were on his cheeks and she turned his head up to face her properly. She examined him a moment before she smiled slightly and leaned forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Well, you’re probably going to have a killer headache, but I think you’ll live. I’ll go get breakfast ready.”

She stood up and took the towel off and _oh god_ he quickly looked away. But...they were married, right? Why was he so shy about this? He was so confused, but he couldn’t bring himself to look again. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t say or do anything about it. She mentioned something about how he had work soon — what, really? Work? Of course he had work. He worked almost every day. But he drank way too much last night. What on earth was he thinking, doing that when he knew he’d have to go to work the very next day? That was stupid. That was really stupid.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong about that headache. He showered as quickly as possible given how not quick his problem was to take care of and hurried to get his clothes on. He hated suits, but it was required at his job. He struggled with the tie, like always. She fixed it when he reached the bottom of the stairs, like always. 

He didn’t even get to sit down all the way when he caught sight of the infant sitting in a highchair across from him. He stared blankly for a second. The baby looked to be about a year old, and he had big black eyes and wisps of purple hair on his head. Those big black eyes stared back before his little face broke into a wide grin and the baby waved his chubby arms around. His wife stepped closer and wiped the little one’s mouth off with a napkin, cooing fondly at him. The baby cooed back at her.

“Sweet boy,” she said to the infant. “Like his daddy.”

_Daddy? Oh shit,_ I’m _daddy!_ He felt dizzy again. The baby giggled again and knocked his bowl off his tray. Goten barely had time to really process anything when he heard two loud, delighted shrieks. “Daddy!”

Terror, or maybe not terror but something closer to it than he’d like, struck him when he looked up and caught sight of two fresh-faced little boys running down the stairs. One of them looked like a mini version of him but with spiky blue hair and blue eyes and the other had straight violet hair and blue eyes. They both went right for him and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do for a solid thirty seconds as they rambled at him.

“Uh...good morning,” he said nervously. _Are these really my kids?_ He struggled to remember anything, literally anything, and honestly shouldn’t that alone have been cause for concern? That he couldn’t even remember them?! Then as suddenly as he thought that, it struck him. _Edo. Tanga. Buro._ His sons. Right, he had sons. Three boys. Did he really forget about his own children? No, of course he didn’t. What the hell was in that damn sake? He’d have to ask Jee about that later. “Shouldn’t you guys be in school by now?”

“We’re going! We just wanted to see you before we left,” Edo explained.

Tanga nodded. “Mama said you’re getting a promotion! Good luck!”

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’ll do my best!”

His wife — actually, was it weird to admit he didn’t remember her name? This was ridiculous but now he was too afraid to say anything since at this point because he was in way too deep. Regardless of his internal crisis, his wife herded them away to school and returned after she’d watched them go. “Hurry and finish eating so you make it in time,” she said. “And don’t forget we have that dinner to go to tonight.”

“Dinner?” he asked, dumbly. “Oh, wait...the promotion.” Right. Promotion. He was going to dinner for work, where he was going to get promoted in front of all of his co-workers. That was why they went drinking the night before. It was to celebrate. They’d probably celebrate again tonight if his wife let him.

_Wife._ The thought made a part of his brain feel a little dizzy. Probably the sake’s fault. Maybe she shouldn’t let him after all. She kissed his cheek. He kissed Buro on the top of his head, stood, turned and then he was at a desk. Busy typing, busy, busy. He wasn’t entirely sure _what_ he was typing, but he was typing very fast until he realized that he was typing and then it was slower because he was trying to read as he typed. Boy, that was inefficient. He paused to look down at his hands. His fingers itched to do something else, to ball up into fists and—

“Hey, Goten!” A round, cheerful face appeared over his cubicle. _Jee. This is Jee._ “How about that sake last night, huh?”

“Oh, man,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Was that really just sake?”

“Sure was,” Jee laughed. “You’re such a light-weight!”

Goten sighed. “My wife wants to kick your ass for that, so you should watch out tonight.”

Jee’s mouth broke into a wide, almost too wide really, smile. “I’d let your wife kick my ass all day long, you know.” Wow. He kind of wanted to punch Jee right now and yet he only laughed. “Still pisses me off that a schmuck like you landed someone that hot. How many kids do you plan on having her pop out anyway? Three’s a lot.”

“However many she wants,” Goten said, doing his best to ignore just how vulgar Jee was. “Maybe four. We just meant to have the two, but when she got pregnant with Buro she said we needed to make it an even number.” He said it so naturally, without even thinking about it because if he thought about it, then he couldn’t actually remember much about any conversation like that right now. 

Jee shook his head. “Whoa, seriously? However many she wants...that’s dangerous thinking, you know. Women love babies. What if she wants ten?”

“Hm...well, I guess we’ll have ten, then,” Goten said with a shrug. Jee practically howled with shocked laughter while Goten looked down at his desk. There was a picture of her in a white dress, smiling brightly at the camera. Memories from those days crept into his mind slowly. She was already pregnant with Edo then, but they hadn’t told anyone yet. Their marriage was already a big enough scandal as is — she was rich and famous, from an incredibly influential family. She had no business marrying the son of a backwoods radish farmer, especially given the difference in age. Her getting pregnant was a total accident, though he’d never been more grateful for anything in his life. 

His eyes drifted over to his own face in the picture, but he hardly recognized himself. Everyone he knew had straight hair, yet his tended to spike up at his bangs for some reason if he let it grow out. Had his hair always done that? Why was it even like that? Where’d he get it from? His mom had straight hair. His grandpa too. Maybe he got it from his—

“Good thing her family’s loaded, or you’d be in real trouble, huh?” Jee said. Goten blinked and tore his gaze away from the picture. “I bet they pay you a lot to keep her happy.”

“That’s quite a thing to say,” Goten said, frowning partially at Jee’s tone and partially at his own timidness. “We love each other.”

“I just mean she can’t be cheap,” Jee said dismissively. “A woman like that from a family like that always expects more than normal men like us can give.”

Goten’s frown deepened. His wife’s family was very wealthy, that was true, but they never received or even asked for help. It wasn’t always easy — they had three boys and that got expensive fast. But she was still well known and still well-liked. She made money just by existing or saying she liked a product where people heard her. Regardless, he worked hard so she wouldn’t have to worry so much. “We love each other. That’s all there is to it.”

“Sure, sure.” Jee looked around and then tapped the top of the cubicle. “I gotta get back to my desk. See you tonight, Son!”

Goten struggled to focus. Jee was supposed to be his best friend. They grew up together, shared everything with one another, and yet he wanted nothing more than to hit him. His eye itched again and he rubbed it irritably. Now was not the time to be thinking. Now was the time to be working.

He tried to type, but now that he was aware that he was typing, it was hard to actually do it. The words on the screen made no sense to him. The only word he recognized was _wish,_ over and over and over again. But...that couldn’t have been right. He worked for a big company. Why would they just want him typing the same thing repeatedly?

Sake. He would never drink sake again. That had to be why he was so out of sorts. Who knew he could get so drunk off of it? His fingers itched again and he stood to grab a cup of water. When he did, the sound of typing came to a sudden halt. All of his co-workers stared at him for a moment before they returned to the clicking and clacking of their keyboards.

Huh. Weird.

As they left work for the day, he realized it was easier not to worry if he just didn’t think much. Jee caught up to him on the sidewalk and slapped his hand down on his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but for some reason, he flinched anyway as if it did. But he’d taken worse hits before. Much worse. Like that time—

“You listening, Goten?” He blinked. He wasn’t. He smiled apologetically. Jee laughed in his face. “Well, anyway, tell Bulla to wear that red dress I like.”

_Bulla_. That was her name. _Of course_ that was her name. His beautiful wife, who gave him three sons. Good lord, why had that been so hard to remember? Just the sound of it in his head echoed over and over so pleasantly that it nearly made him forget how filthy Jee’s smile was. Was this man actually his friend? He wanted to punch him again. Maybe kick him too. Or throw him across the street into the garbage can. His fingers itched again and he had half a mind to do exactly what he was thinking. 

Instead, he laughed awkwardly. Like a pushover idiot. “We’ll see! She wears whatever she wants. I don’t have a say in that.”

Jee laughed and waved. Goten laughed and waved. And a second later and he was on the train home. He stood holding the bar above him with one hand while the other held his briefcase loosely.

Everyone was mostly silent, save for a few teenagers talking animatedly with one another. He caught only bits and pieces of what they were saying without even trying — the one word that stood out to him the most was ‘ _wish_.’ It struck him as strange, for some reason. He tried to hear what exactly they were talking about, but the doors opened and they exited the platform. He shook his head and pushed it out of his mind, turning to look at his own reflection in the window. His hair looked...odd. Spikier, somehow. And his face...wait, that wasn’t his face, was it? At least, for a second it wasn’t. When he looked again, whatever he saw had gone. It was strange. He’d always been told how much he looked like his—

“Dad?” He blinked. Edo waved a hand in front of his face. “Dad, you’re supposed to help me!”

“Huh? Help you?” Goten repeated. He suddenly realized he was sitting at a table with an open textbook in front of him. Edo nodded and shifted closer, pushing his notebook across the table to him.

“With my homework before grandma comes,” he said. “You promised!”

_Did I?_ “R-Right, sorry,” Goten said quickly. “I just thought I was somewhere else for a second.” He rubbed his eye and got to work helping his son with his literature homework. Quiet moments like this after work were nice. Spending time with his family, listening to his boys as they told him about their day at school, and just enjoying their company was all he could’ve ever wanted. 

Edo sighed, abruptly interrupting Goten’s thoughts. “Don’t you wish it was like this _all_ the time?”

“Mm. I don’t really remember having this kind of homework when I was your age,” he said. These big literature projects were way out of his field. And if he was honest, he couldn’t remember much about being Edo’s age, which was...which was...

Did he _not_ know how old his own son was?

Edo continued to speak. “I mean being here. Don’t you wish real life was really like this?”

“I-I...um, what? Real life?” Goten said, still trying to piece together the years, and now what his son was saying. It made no sense to him, but when he looked at Edo, the boy only stared blankly at him for a moment before his mouth spread into a wide, almost too wide, smile.

“Come on, dad! Don’t you wish you could stay here forever?” Edo said. Something about what he was saying and how he was saying it made Goten’s hair stand on end, but before he could say or do anything about it, Bulla entered the room with Buro on her hip.

“Edo! Pack it up already! Your grandma’s here,” she said. 

“Aw, mom! I’m not done with my homework yet!” Edo groused, though he began gathering his things all the same.

“You should’ve done it sooner instead of trying to con your dad into doing it for you,” Bulla said. “Goten, I put your suit on the bed. We have to leave soon.”

“Y-Yeah,” he said. He watched as Edo disappeared down the hallway before he stood from the table. He was still reeling from the strangeness of the conversation he’d just had when he realized he was no longer in their house. He and Bulla were standing in a large room surrounded by his co-workers, laughing and loudly talking to one another. Even though the dinner was for him, everyone seemed especially drawn to his wife. Why wouldn’t they be? She was like a light in a dark room. Even when his mind felt fuzzy, all he had to do was look at her and it didn’t matter. It was easy to be pulled in by her, to be so wholly focused on her that everything else melted away. He was willing to bet that if she wasn’t famous, nothing would’ve changed.

“The Sons!” Jee’s voice broke through everything else, immediately grating on Goten’s nerves. In spite of that, he still found himself giving the other man a friendly hug. “Don’t you wish every day was a party like this one?”

“I don’t think I could handle this every day,” Goten said, laughing.

Jee jabbed his elbow into Goten’s side roughly. “That’s ‘cause you’re a boring old dad now with a dominating wife! Oh, and speak of the devil herself and she shall appear. Lovin’ the dress, Mrs. Son! Or should I call you Mrs. Vice President, huh?”

Bulla gave what looked like a perfectly normal, pleasant smile, but Goten knew better. It was as sharp as her voice when she spoke. “Jee. I’m glad we ran into you, actually.”

“Oh? Well, well! What can I do for you, pretty lady?” Jee leaned a little too close for Goten’s comfort. Bulla didn’t miss a beat — she put one hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“You can stop getting my husband so drunk he forgets what day it is,” she said harshly. “And you can try to be a little more decent when you’re out in public. Honestly, I have no idea why or even _how_ you two are friends.”

_Neither do I_ , he nearly said when Jee burst out laughing, his face turning beet red. Thankfully, Bulla abruptly guided Goten away and through a door into the hallway. 

“I have to go up there soon,” Goten pointed out. “I don’t think they’ll give me the promotion if I’m not there to take it.”

“Your tie is messed up again,” she said. As Bulla set to work undoing his tie to fix it, Goten smiled to himself. He really did love his wife so much. She was thoughtful, strong, smart...everything he could’ve ever hoped for. It was so easy not to think when she was around. Or at least, it usually was. His gaze drifted from her face and to the door behind her, but what he saw beyond the window made him do a double-take. Absolutely no one, not a single person in the other room was moving. Some were frozen mid-laugh or with a glass held up to their face, while most were in mid-conversation. Goten blinked once, then twice, but they still hadn’t moved. It sent a chill down his spine.

“There, all fixed,” Bulla said. Her voice sounded far away and he took her hands in his before she pulled away.

“W-Wait...” he said, eyes still glued on the window. “Bulla, look.”

She paused and then let out a small laugh. “At what? Is Jee making an idiot of himself?”

“No, just...just look,” he said. He gently began to turn her around, but she resisted him slightly and laughed again.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Bulla, I’m serious,” he said, letting her go and turning his attention to her. “Just look and you’ll see what I...” But when he looked again himself, it was like it hadn’t happened. Everyone was moving, talking and laughing as they had been before. Bulla looked too and then glanced back at Goten.

“All right. You’re done with drinking tonight,” she said, patting his arm fondly.

“But...but I swear I saw something.” His eye itched and he rubbed it again, though it did nothing to make what he saw come back so she could see for herself.

She stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek and took his hand in her own. “Come on. I think they’re about ready for you anyway.”

The rest of the evening went without a hitch. He accepted his promotion, thanked his superiors and his wife, and his co-workers joked about the new office he’d be getting the next time he came into work. It was, for all intents and purposes, a fun and happy occasion. Yet even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread he had. Couldn’t let go of what he’d seen or how, when he actually listened to what his co-workers were saying, the same word kept coming up, over and over again.

‘ _Wish._ ’

“I’m so proud of you.”

They were in bed now. Bulla was wrapped in his arms, partially resting on his chest with her fingers idly brushing over his skin. They were naked, both slightly sweaty and breathless. He couldn’t quite remember when they’d gotten home, but since the boys were still at his mother’s house, now was one of their few chances to really enjoy each other’s company. Have some alone time and remember what it felt like to be touched. Naturally, it led to this.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. She smiled and turned her head to nuzzle her cheek against his chest.

“You work so hard for us, even when you don’t have to. You know, I could just call my parents and—”

“No. I mean, I like the work,” he said. “I’d really like to save enough to move out to the country though. I kind of miss having a farm.”

“A farm?” she repeated. He could tell she was wrinkling her nose, and he laughed.

“What? You’d make a great farm girl,” he teased. “We’ll get some cows and chickens...you’d love it.”

For a moment, she said nothing. His smile wavered while he waited for her to say something snarky or scoff at the mere suggestion that she’d ever work on a farm, yet it never came. He shifted slightly so he could look down at her in time for her to meet his gaze and smile.

“Maybe I will,” she said. It took him by surprise. She’d never liked the idea of a farm before. When they were newlyweds and expecting Edo, she had shot down every attempt he made at convincing her to move to the countryside he’d grown up in, adamant that she would never, _ever_ become a farm girl herself. She wanted a city life, and that’s where they’d been ever since. So what could’ve changed?

“Oh, um...r-really?” he asked, genuinely taken aback. “Because I understand if you’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” she said. “You’ve been working so hard for us, so...if that’s what you want to do, then let’s do it.”

_I’m so proud of you._ Of course. He swore he could have exploded with happiness right then and there. Whatever doubts he had, he quickly pushed aside so he could pull her closer to him in a warm embrace. He knew he’d do anything for her, give her whatever she wanted and more if only she’d ask. And now knowing that she was willing to do the same only made him fall deeper and deeper in love with her. There was no room for doubt, not now.

The next thing he knew, it’d been weeks since that night. He wasn’t entirely sure how he knew that, but when he looked up from his desk and eyed the calendar he trusted that it wasn’t wrong. Work had been more demanding than ever, so he supposed it made sense that his days sort of blended together. Plus, the boys had so much going on at school too. Between Edo’s sports and Tanga’s music, it was amazing he and Bulla had time to do anything else.

As he typed mindlessly at his computer, something broke through his concentration suddenly. A yell. It was so loud that he honestly thought it was coming from just outside his window. He paused and looked up, unmoving for a minute while he waited. When nothing happened, he returned to typing, only to hear it again.

“Huh? Is someone there?” he said to no one. Once more, nothing happened. He frowned, but when his fingers touched the keyboard and the yell came again, he pushed himself away from his desk and moved to the large window on the other side of the room. Outside was dark and gray, with snow drifting lazily down and marking the beginning of winter.

Wait...winter? Wasn’t it just the middle of summer? A few weeks didn’t mean skipping an entire season. And that yell...he knew that yell.

_GOTEN!_

There was no mistaking that, not when it was so clear. Whoever was yelling was clearly yelling his name. He pushed open the window and leaned over the sill, frantically searching the sidewalk below for the source of the voice. But while he couldn’t see it or hear it right now, he somehow knew it was coming from far away, outside of the city and toward the coast. He had just hoisted himself up when the realization struck him and he stopped. _What the hell was he doing?_ Was he about to jump out the damn window?

No...no, not jump. He was going to _fly_. But that was impossible. People don’t fly, at least not without some help. The sudden sound of his phone ringing nearly made him lose his balance, but he caught himself and quickly scrambled back inside. He fumbled with his phone for a moment before he finally managed to answer it.

“I’m just calling to remind you that Tanga’s piano recital is tonight,” Bulla said. He could hear Buro babbling happily in the background. “Oh! Make sure you wear the badge I put in your bag too. It’s for the school’s fundraiser thing.”

He moved to close the window, shifting the phone to his other ear. “Oh, y-yeah. I’ll be there, let me just...” But he trailed off as confusion crept in. It was happening again. The people on the sidewalk below weren’t moving. Not even when he shook his head or blinked or strained his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing anything. It was just like before, at the party the company put on for his promotion. His mind raced as he struggled to come to grips with what he was seeing. He moved away from the window and hurried to his office door to carefully peek out at the secretary, who was also not moving. 

It took him a minute or two to realize Bulla was still talking. “Goten? Goten, are you there?”

_Goten!_ The voice had come back, more insistent than ever before. His eye was burning. _Goten, listen to me! Please, you have to listen!_

“I, um...I have to go.”

Never had he ever hung up on Bulla before, but he had no choice. That strange feeling just wouldn’t leave him alone, and between the voice and those unmoving people, what else could he do? Well, he couldn’t fly, that was for sure. He grabbed his coat and hurried out the door, ignoring the secretary when he called after him.

_You have to get out of there. Hurry!_

Just like last time, everything seemed normal the second he stepped outside. People were walking, talking, going about their daily lives, yet that feeling remained buried in him. He rushed down the street aimlessly, trying desperately to search out just where that sense of dread was coming from. The more he walked, the stronger that feeling became, and it only got worse when he heard it again.

‘ _Wish._ ’

“Wish?” he repeated under his breath. “Wish for what? Who are you?” This voice was different from the other. It wasn’t familiar at all while the other was so familiar that it felt as though its identity was on the tip of his tongue. But this...this was like a voice unlike any he’d ever heard before. Low, rumbling, and dark. It drowned out the other and filled him with pure, abject terror. 

‘ _Wish._ ’

“Tell me! What are you?!” People had stopped walking again, only this time they were staring at him. He barely noticed, still too intent on figuring out just where that voice was coming from. Suddenly, the one voice became a dozen, growing louder and more urgent as it repeated itself.

‘ _Wish. Wish. Wish.’_

Goten stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his gaze frantically searching the sky and finding nothing. A sharpness shot through him so abruptly that it made him dizzy, but the dark voice had been silenced and now he knew where it was coming from. East. Beyond the city, toward the coast. Goten rubbed his left eye irritably and without even thinking, began walking in that direction, stepping into the road and—

He didn’t even see the bus coming.

When his eyes opened again, he was looking down at the top of the bus. He blinked once, then twice, then a third time. Once more, everyone had frozen in place below him, but more importantly, he was in the air. _He_ was in the _air_. Goten let out a loud gasp and nearly lost his...balance? Was that the word? Either way, he found it again almost too easily. As strange as it was, there was something so _familiar_ about the feeling he had hovering in the air that it was almost effortless. All he had to do was think about it and he was moving. Slow and unsure at first, but the more he did it, the easier it got. 

_That’s it, Goten. You're remembering now!_ That voice again. He knew it, and he knew where it was coming from. East, just beyond the coast outside the city. _Come on! Let’s get you out of here._

“Right! I’m coming, I promise I’ll—”

‘ _Bulla._ ’ 

Bulla. He couldn’t just leave her there, especially not now. No matter how strong the urge to chase the voice was, he shared everything with her. This...whatever this was...he had to show her too. He _knew_ he had to.

“I have to grab someone first,” he said, hoping the voice could hear him. “I’ll come back, I promise!”

_Wait! Don’t, Goten!_

With that, he took off and quickly found that flight was as easy as breathing. He got more confident, pushed himself to go faster and made loops in the air. It was such an exhilarating experience that by the time he came to a stumbling landing, his heart was beating so fast he thought it might jump out of his chest.

“Bulla! Bulla, I have to show you something!” he yelled as he burst into the house.

“Goten?!” She came running down the stairs and practically threw herself into his arms. “Goten, what the hell happened?! Jee called saying you nearly jumped out a window, then he said you ran out of work without an explanation! Are you okay?”

“I have to show you something,” he repeated, smiling from ear to ear. “Where are the kids? We’ll take them too!”

“Wha...the kids? Edo and Tanga are still at school, and I just took Buro to daycare so I could come look for you,” she said.

“That’s okay! We’ll come back for them then. I have to show you what I can do,” he said. He took her by the hand and led her outside.

“Hold on, okay?” he said. 

“What are you—”

Bulla’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when he shot them both upwards into the air. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly while her legs went to his waist, her whole body tensed against him so much that it seemed as if she might actually need to be pried off with a crowbar. He waited a moment, laughing and holding her as she trembled in his arms. 

“It’s okay! Look, I got you,” he said. “Trust me.”

“W-What the h-hell is going on?!” she cried. 

“I can fly now! See?” he said. He demonstrated by moving both of them forward, though it only seemed to scare her more.

“D-Don’t move!” she yelped. “How are y-you doing this?! How is this possible!”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but...I think I’ve always been able to do this.” 

_Goten, you have to hurry!_ He turned to look eastward, his eyes scanning the horizon.

“I...I have to go somewhere,” he said. “But I want you to come with me.”

“Go where? Wh-What are you talking about?” Bulla said. She held him a little tighter, and he brought his attention back to her so he could offer her a comforting smile.

“I don’t really know. I just know I want you to come with me too,” he said. 

“Goten, I don’t...I don’t know what’s going on, but...I trust you,” she said. 

It was all he needed to hear. As he flew toward the east and they left the city behind them, it didn’t escape him how quickly darkness was beginning to settle in the sky, or how that sense of dread came crawling back to the forefront of his mind. He did his best to ignore it, spurred on by the faint feeling of hope blossoming in his chest. Before long, an island came into view. It was unlike any island he’d ever seen before; black sands and tall, black trees made lined the beach, and he could hardly see anything else beyond them. The moment their feet touched the ground, an earthquake shook them hard enough that he barely had time to catch her. But once it passed, Bulla let out a sharp gasp.

“Goten! Goten, the city!” she yelled, pointing. He turned to stare in horror as a black cloud appeared to open over the tall buildings in the distance. “What’s going on? What’s happening?! Goten, what’s happening?!”

“I-I…” he tried to find the words, yet nothing came. All he could do was watch as the black cloud seemed to drop and engulf the city entirely. From the looks of it, the cloud was spreading, stretching even beyond the tall buildings and across the sea. Almost as if...

_Run! Don’t stop no matter what she says, you hear me?!_

It was coming toward them. Goten hurried to his feet and grabbed Bulla by the hand, pulling her along as he ran into the black forest. She stumbled a few times, and he had to work at not reacting to her cries as they ran. Eventually, they came to a massive doorway of some kind. It was easily as tall as a house and triangular, and like everything else, the stone that it was made from was pitch black. A faint white glow seemed to make up the outside lining of its entrance. But as he stepped closer, Bulla’s fingers tightened around his hand to pull him back.

“N-No, Goten,” she said. “We can’t go there. We have to go back home, _now_.”

_Keep going. Don’t listen to her._ “We have to, Bulla. It’s the only way out,” he said. She shook her head, her bottom lip quivering.

“No. We have to go back — we have to save the boys,” she urged. Bulla stepped back and pulled on his hand, tugging him toward her.

_It’s a trick._

“But the city...that cloud, you saw it too! The boys...we can’t go back. This is our only way out.” It should have struck him as odd that he hadn’t even thought about the boys once since they landed, yet it didn’t. He turned away and moved for the doorway. The closer he got, however, the stranger he felt. New visions were sweeping through his mind, like memories he’d forgotten about. It was a life unlike the one he’d live so far, yet it seemed _right_ all the same time. He struggled to piece it all together, not that he’d be given much time to before Bulla’s voice cut through all of it.

“Stop! Don’t leave me! Not again, Goten, _please!_ ”

The desperation in her voice was so raw, so urgent, that it stopped him dead in his tracks. Again? He’d never left before, right? But...he had, hadn’t he? He was only there _because_ he’d left her before. Except it wasn’t her. Or...it was, but it wasn’t. She was different somehow, though he couldn’t say how. 

_It’s a trick, Goten. It’s not real._

“Not...not real?” he repeated, confused.

_She’s not real._

“Goten, look at me!” Bulla said, grabbing his chin to make him face her. “I’m here. Our children are _here_. Everything you’ve ever wanted...a wife, a family, a normal life...it’s all here! All you have to do is come back with me.”

_Look closely, Goten. It can only copy so much._

Goten paused. Even with the cloud of darkness inching closer and closer, he found it difficult to just leave her there. He had to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that what the voice said was true. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them and moving away from the strange light of the door behind him. Her hands went to his arms as he cupped her face with his palms, tilting her head back so he could look at her carefully.

“You already know what to do. Just say it,” she said. “Reality can be whatever you want it to be, Goten. All you have to do is _say it_.”

_‘Wish.’_

“Make your _wish_ , Goten,” she continued. Her hands had moved to touch his face, mirroring the way he was holding hers. “Make this real and together, we can claw our way out there and make your world whatever you want it to be.”

There it was. The thing it couldn’t copy. He took a deep breath and nodded. His hands fell from her face and to her shoulders so he could lean in and kiss her gently on her forehead. Their life together, their children, his boring job and seeing her smiling face every morning — it was all a lie. Too good to be true, and too peaceful to really be his life. He knew now, could see the cardboard cutouts and cheap props clearly. The confirmation tasted bittersweet, and when he smiled it was as hollow as he felt. 

“I’m sorry. I love you, okay?” He knew it wasn’t her, but he needed her to hear it anyway. He needed to say it again. She shook her head and clutched at his arms, but he was still stronger than her. It wasn’t hard to pull away physically, though he couldn’t say the same for having to ignore her yells.

As he stepped back through the doorway, gritting his teeth against the immense pain that came with the light. He couldn’t say just how long he spent falling through the blinding whiteness until he fell through another doorway. The ground below him was wet but solid. He gulped down as much air as he could get all at once while both his mind and body struggled to piece everything that had happened together. 

_You did great, Goten. Don’t worry, we’ll see you soon!_


	7. Bulla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least quarantine makes it easier for me to sit down and actually write. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!

“What?”

“Female, princess. Your child is a female.”

Bulla stared blankly at Avoca for a moment even as he moved away and began talking about something else. She glanced down at herself and frowned. Female. _Female._ Well, regardless of what it was, it still didn’t feel real. She still didn’t feel anything. Wasn’t she supposed to feel something? Something other than the urge to take a nap all the time, or how frustrating it was searching for clothes that fit? At least she wasn’t as sick anymore whenever she ate or smelled something that wasn’t bland. She tried to imagine what Goten would do or say if he were there. How he’d feel, how he’d react.

But she realized he’d probably just say something stupid or embarrassing and annoy her. The mere thought brought on the beginnings of a headache and she scowled to herself. That idiot _would_ find a way to make her mad without even being around. Her train of thought was interrupted by a loud sigh.

“Did you hear a single thing I said?” Avoca’s exasperated voice drew her from her thoughts and she shot him a glare. She hadn’t, but that didn’t matter to her. 

“Watch your tone, Avoca,” she warned. “I might be your patient but I’m still the princess.”

Avoca seemed taken aback by that and quickly offered a low bow. “Apologies, Your Highness. Your care is of the utmost importance to me, that’s all.”

Bulla rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “What did you say, then?”

He stood straight and cleared his throat, then moved closer to show her the tablet screen. “It seems as though her power level has stabilized for now. At the very least, we shouldn’t expect much change from where she is currently. You said you’ve felt no movement?”

“No. Or...I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to tell,” she said.

“I’m certain you’d _know_ ,” Avoca said, glancing at her over his glasses. “Saiyan children are quite strong.”

“Then no, I guess.” Bulla’s frown deepened. She was too distracted to think about anything other than what he said about the baby’s power level. “So it won’t be as powerful as we thought it would be?”

“Not necessarily. It’s possible that this is merely temporary,” Avoca said. ”At worst it may take until after she’s born and given time in the nursery tank to learn her potential. This is hardly unusual, princess. Given her parentage, I am confident that she will still be powerful. We’ll know soon enough.”

“Yeah. We’ll see.”

Disappointed was not a strong enough word to describe how she felt as she left. The baby’s power had been stagnant for the last week and despite Avoca’s assurances, she still found herself worried about what it could mean. If it wasn’t going to be as strong as they thought, then maybe she’d have to rethink what to do if the king lost interest.

At least she had her work with Okara to rely on for the time being. Taking back her contacts in West City had almost been too easy with Saiyan support, but reading the message she received from Marron hadn’t been. She knew the other woman would be upset, though she hadn’t expected the hurt that came with it. It wasn’t a betrayal, Bulla knew. It was just a necessity.

As she made her way down to the city with her escort, Bulla couldn’t help but wonder if Marron would’ve done anything differently if their positions had been switched. Surely she would’ve realized how important her work was with the war going on. Surely she would’ve made the same choices. Maybe she’d ask Vegeta what he thought because the more she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. She had just entered the new training arena her mother had designed when a voice stopped her.

“Princess.”

She looked back to see Tollash approaching her, whose presence only served to irritate her further. “What do you want? Where’s my dad?”

The Saiyan woman slowed her pace and paused long enough to offer a quick bow. “Your father left some time ago. I thought I might offer to train you in his stead.”

“Where did he go?” she asked, eyeing Tollash suspiciously. It wasn’t like him to just up and leave without a word, not unless it was something incredibly important. But if it was that important, wouldn’t he have said anything? The idea that he’d intentionally leave her in the dark frustrated her even more.

“I’m sure it won’t surprise you to know I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Tollash said.

“I’m the princess. I’m at liberty to know where my own father went,” Bulla snapped. 

Tollash hardly seemed affected by Bulla’s tone. “I wouldn’t dare prevent you from going to see the king and ask him yourself. In the meantime, Your Highness, my services are yours.”

Bulla scowled. Part of her wanted to send Tollash away and train on her own, but the other part knew she was better off with a partner. As much as she hated Tollash, the woman really was the only one who had been brave enough to approach her since the arena incident. She scoffed and stormed through the doors to the arena. “Fine.”

The moment she stepped in, whatever training sessions were happening came to a halt to acknowledge her. She would’ve been lying if she claimed she didn’t enjoy the power that came with her title; having everyone wait for her to finally wave her hand dismissively before they resumed what they were doing was a rush for her. 

“I’m told your father was teaching you how to control your ki,” Tollash said. “I assume you’ve made enough progress to make controlled blasts.”

Bulla crossed her arms and nodded. “Of course.”

“Good. Then we should do a little target practice,” Tollash said. She led the way further into the arena, across the room toward the back. It was more open there, with fewer people in the way, but Bulla didn’t see much in regards to an actual target.

“Are you going to be my target, Tollash?” Bulla asked, only half-jokingly. Unsurprisingly, Tollash didn’t seem to see the humor in the question.

“No. We have someone else to test your abilities on,” she said. With that, she gave a quick nod and a second later a man joined her at her side. He had a head of wild, shaggy hair and a severe look to his scarred face. It didn’t take her long to realize it was the same man she’d seen carried broken and bloodied into the infirmary just weeks ago. The same man who dared to challenge her father to a fight. As his eyes landed on her, she felt her stomach tighten. Now that he was cleaned up, she could clearly see his face and, despite the scars, he was incredibly handsome. She quickly looked away from him.

“You said it was a trainee,” he said gruffly.

“She _is_ a trainee, in a manner of speaking,” Tollash answered, unfazed by his roughness.

He didn’t seem convinced. “Is she even Saiyan?”

Tollash let out a snort. “She’s a half-breed. I wouldn’t bring a _human_ here.”

“She’s pregnant,” he finished flatly, his eyes sweeping over her. “And tiny. It wouldn’t be much of a fight.”

Bulla scowled, her cheeks burning with a mix of anger and humiliation. Whatever she thought about his looks, he was enough of a jerk to make her forget all about it. They were talking about her like she wasn’t there, as if she wouldn’t say anything about it. She couldn’t — no, she _wouldn’t_ stand for it.

“I have _ears_ , you know,” she snapped. “And I am more than capable of handling myself. I guarantee I could handle you.”

“ _H_ _andle_ me?” he said. his tone bordering on playful. Her cheeks only got hotter at that.

“She’ll be fine,” Tollash interrupted. “Besides, you’re not fighting. Go stand by that wall.”

“Why?” the man asked warily.

“Do as you’re told,” Tollash said harshly. The man cast a skeptical, irritated glance to the two women before he reluctantly complied. Tollash stepped forward and motioned toward him to Bulla. “That’s your target.”

Bulla looked at Tollash in surprise, then glanced at the man uncertainly. “Him?”

“Practicing with dummies is only so effective. Practicing on the real thing is the only way to improve,” the Saiyan woman explained. She cast a sneer in the man’s direction before she continued. “Besides, we won’t be missing anything _useful_ if you accidentally kill this one.”

Her tone seemed especially harsh, enough that it took Bulla aback for a moment. Saiyans weren’t exactly the nicest people she’d ever met, but the sheer level of acid Tollash spat his way was far more aggressive than she’d ever seen before. Whoever he was, he seemed to have earned himself a spot on everyone’s shit list by the way people nearby were watching. That said, the man himself hardly looked fazed. Rather, he appeared more amused than anything. He stood and watched her patiently, arms folded and his mouth curved into a slight smile.

“Fine. What am I supposed to do?” Bulla said.

“Aim your blasts at him. He’ll try to deflect them, and you’ll try to anticipate where he sends them,” replied Tollash. “It’s like playing catch.”

Bulla frowned. “Seems childish.”

“It is. This is what we teach children to do.” At her scowl, Tollash turned to face Bulla and offered an incredulous laugh. “Did you think training would be any more than that? Given your condition, your father made it clear you were to...how did he say it? ‘Take it easy.’”

Once again, humiliation and anger roared through her. Vegeta had been holding back, and to some degree she understood it. But knowing that he passed along the same restrictions to those around her made her feel weak despite how strong she felt otherwise. Her pregnancy had made her stronger than she was before, yet there she was about to play children’s games with two battle-hardened warriors while they barely hid their smirks.

 _I’ll show them,_ she thought. _I’ll make them regret underestimating me._ Without a word, Bulla collected a ball of energy in the palms of her hands and sent them flying toward the man. He knocked them back toward her with ease, though the speed at which they approached forced Bulla to move quickly. Back and forth they went for a moment and while Bulla found herself uncomfortably strained, the man almost looked bored.

“Was there anything else you needed me to do today, Tollash?” he called out in between the back and forth. “I’m sure there’s a better way to waste my time.”

Rage flared in Bulla’s chest immediately. She let the last ball of energy fly past her and spun around to collect more between her palms and sending that his way. The force of it caught him off guard, though his surprise only lasted a moment before his mouth into a satisfied grin. He swung it back her way, though it curved in such a manner that she barely had time to dodge it entirely. The blast connected into the side of the walls, but thanks to Bulma’s dampeners it only left behind a small scorch mark where it hit. 

“If anyone’s time is being wasted, it’s _mine_ ,” she snapped. “Now get serious or get lost.”

“Serious? This?” He laughed. “You really do need all the help you can get.”

“That’s it!” Bulla yelled. She came to a stop and put both of her hands in front of her, heat building in her palms until light and energy swirled together. Tollash said something probably meant to stop her, but she shrugged her off regardless. The blast tore from her hands and surged directly toward the man, almost in a perfectly straight path. She took in deep breaths as she watched, but just as she began to relish in her victory, she realized that it stopped. That it had _been_ stopped.

“What the…” she began, although she didn’t have time to register what she was seeing. All at once the light came hurtling back at her, too quickly for her to do more than gasp in surprise. She brought both of her arms up to shield herself, her eyes shut tightly against the brightness. But whatever she expected to feel never came. Instead, a loud shattering noise and the sounds of various yells seized her attention. When she opened her eyes again, she realized she had moved. The blast had ripped through the metal-plated ceiling of the arena, allowing the rain from outside to come pouring into the training facility.

“You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.” The man’s voice was so close to her ear that it made her jump. Bulla only had to turn her head slightly to notice he was standing directly behind her, leaning forward so that his face was close to hers. She stepped away from him and turned to face him as he stood straight.

“I had it,” she said defiantly. He snorted.

“Yeah, it really looked like you did,” he said. He laughed when she scowled at him. “You know, for a half-breed, you’re a lot stronger than you look.”

“Of course she is,” Tollash said, interrupting Bulla before she had a chance to respond. The Saiyan woman approached them and glanced back at the new hole in the ceiling. “What did you expect from your king’s granddaughter?”

The look on his face changed dramatically. He glanced between Tollash and Bulla, then frowned at the ground. Suddenly, his entire demeanor seemed to change and he shifted uncomfortably. “You...I didn’t realize she was a half-breed.”

Bulla raised her head and put her hands on her hips. “ _What_ I am doesn’t matter. I want to continue where we left off.”

“Sorry, but I’m done for the day,” he said. He looked away from her and made for the exit while Bulla watched him.

“Hold on! You can’t just _leave_ ,” she said. “Hey! I order you to come back here!”

He stopped at the door and looked back. His features had darkened considerably, and his gaze seemed heavier than before. It took her aback, enough so that she nearly forgot what she’d said. “All due respect, but I’d rather not. Rematch for another time.”

With that, he continued on in spite of her order, leaving her both angry and irritated. She stared at the door for a while until Tollash’s voice tore her gaze away.

“Disrespectful little runt,” she scoffed. “We’ll see to it he’s punished.”

“Don’t bother. But...who is he?” Bulla asked. Her chest felt oddly tight the more she thought about the look on his face. “Why didn’t he know who I was?”

“Says his name is Cress. I didn’t see any reason to tell him who you were,” Tollash said. “I wanted to see how he’d handle that news anyway.”

Bulla frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I’m surprised the prince didn’t tell you about him already,” the Saiyan woman said. “Years ago, Frieza started demanding we hand over our strongest children to fight for his entertainment. I’ve never seen one of them make it into adulthood, but that one claims he’s the only one who managed to survive long enough to become one of Frieza’s...”

It was difficult to tell whether Tollash had trailed off because of the way Bulla’s jaw set tightly or if she simply didn’t want to elaborate. Whatever the case, Bulla shifted her weight and folded her arms under her chest. “I don’t...I didn’t think Frieza kept any other Saiyans around,” she said.

“Well...that’s just what he claims happened,” she said.

“You think he’s lying?” Bulla asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know for sure. That’s why I wanted you two to meet. Do you recognize him at all, princess?”

A frown tugged at her lips while she thought. Finally, she shook her head. “No, I don’t. But...but Frieza did have...he held a lot of different tournaments. Most of them were to the death. Marron and I were usually forced to perform for them, but I was rarely ever allowed to watch any.” _It would only upset your little monkey brain,_ he’d said to her. She wasn’t sure he was wrong.

“Hmph. Then I guess there’s no real way for us to—”

“Tollash!” The two looked up to see Raditz approaching. He stopped and offered a stiff nod to Bulla before motioning behind himself with his thumb. “King wants to see you. Now.”

Tollash nodded. “Another time then, princess.”

Bulla watched as Tollash left with Raditz. Part of her debated following after them; curiosity demanded that she know what the king wanted from Tollash. But the other part knew better than to step on her grandfather’s toes. Instead, she left the arena, glancing back at the hole she’d inadvertently made with some semblance of pride. Her mother had talked a big talk about reinforcing the walls to handle stronger blasts. Breaking through them had been far more satisfying than she realized.

The rain continued through the rest of the day. Bulla opted to remain inside and keep herself busy with communications from West City. Qubi had just responded to her last attempt at brokering a deal with disappointing news — the old woman always had preferred Marron’s softer touch to Bulla’s more aggressive one. But Haka had surprised her by agreeing to play both sides and favoring the Saiyans. Whatever information they found, they would send her way before they went to Marron.

 _But we’re not enemies_ , she reminded herself. _This is just for the war._

Yes, the war. The war that hardly seemed real beyond the reports she received or the conversations her father and the king had around her. Chigo and his men were no closer to being totally wiped off the map than they were months ago. It was almost as if they’d managed to remain just ahead of the Saiyans enough to survive most of their encounters. Even her father seemed to be having difficulty with them.

As night settled down, so did the rain. It petered out until only the smell of it lingered behind. Bulla climbed into bed only after Totoma assured her that if Vegeta did return that night that she’d wake her up immediately. Falling asleep was difficult that night, if only for the odd feeling she just couldn’t shake. She tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity before she found herself standing in front of that house surrounded by mountains. 

It took her a moment to realize that she’d been there before. Not really, but it was all the same to her at this point. She reached out to touch the handle and once again heard _that_ laugh. Only this time she ignored it. She had to ignore it. As the door swung open, the laughter faded into nothing. The room was more or less empty, save for the round table and the kitchen area immediately next to it. There was another door on the other side of the room, and it only took a few steps to cross over to it.

On the other side of the door came those sounds again. Laughing, talking...the voices were so carefree, like nothing bad had ever happened. For some reason, it made her heart pound. Her stomach felt like it was curling in on itself. One of her hands flattened itself against the hardwood while the other sat motionless on the handle. Not for the first time, she knew that all she had to do was open the door to see what was on the other side. To know what it was that made those voices sound so...happy.

Suddenly, they were gone. It was the sharpness in her ribs that she noticed first, like something small had driven itself into her ribs as hard as it could. The voices had gone, replaced by something between a gasp and a shriek. 

She moved in time to avoid the creature launching itself at her. Even in the darkness, she recognized that thing from South City, the same ones that had nearly killed Goten. It landed on her bed where she’d been laying and turned to face her, its glowing red eyes locked onto her. When it threw itself at her again, it did so with its claws out ready to strike. She jumped back as much as the room would allow and did her best to evade, ducking and trying to keep as far out of its reach as she could.

Unfortunately, the size of her room was doing her no favors. At one point her back hit a wall and she was forced to move forward, using her legs to kick the creature away from her and give her enough time to make for the door. A crash from her window following by the sound of another one of those things caused her to turn in time to throw a ki blast at the second one as it flew at her. The blast hit it directly in the face, making it yell out in pain as it died. But the hole it’d made in her window revealed two more of those things climbing in.

“Princess!?” She turned and saw Totoma in the doorway, who immediately rushed inside and abruptly threw herself in front of Bulla just as another creature charged at her again.

“Wait, Totoma!” But the creature had wrapped its body around the Saiyan woman already. Bulla had just enough time to jump back away from the explosion. When she looked again, Totoma’s body had fallen through the newly formed hole in the ground. Bulla leaned over the hole to look down and her eyes widened at the sight of the woman’s body.

 _That could’ve been me,_ she thought. _She saved me._ Her hand fell to her stomach as she fought back against the mix of emotions that had taken root in her. She barely knew Totoma, yet the woman had been so willing to throw her life away. But she didn’t have time to think too much on it — the sound of voices preceded the sight of two Saiyans flying up through the hole, just in time to pull Bulla from her thoughts so she could fire a ki blast at another creature trying to enter through her destroyed window.

“What the hell?! Saibamen? Who released them?!” No one answered the question, seeing that Bulla and the two men were too busy fighting back against the apparent swarm trying to climb in. “Hey! Get the princess out of here!”

“I can fight!” Bulla protested. To emphasize her point, she threw another ki blast into a creature just as its head poked in through the window.

“No one’s gonna be fighting for long,” he barked back. Just as he said it, Bulla looked back to see the Saibamen climbing on top of one another, still somehow stumbling toward them. “Get her out of here already!”

“Let’s go,” the other man turned and she realized it was Cress. He grabbed Bulla by the wrist, yanking her along with him out of the room and down the hall. She jerked her hand away from him but still followed, occasionally yelling at others to get out as they passed by.

A few seconds later, an explosion shook the entire ship, knocking everyone off their feet and into the walls and floors. Bulla twisted in time to land mostly on her shoulder while her arms dropped to shield her stomach automatically. She pulled herself to her feet slowly, then reached her hand out to help Cress up.

“We better get off the ship,” he said. She nodded and the two continued down the hallway until they reached a door leading to the outside. Once they were out, she looked back to see the black smoke billowing into the night sky. The bright round moon hovered over that, though she seemed to be the only one really looking at it. She and Cress flew down to the city streets, and soon enough more and more Saiyans began gathering around them. As everything began to settle down, it was harder to ignore the throbbing pain in her shoulder or the daggers still jamming themselves into her ribs.

“You alright?” Cress asked. 

“Y-Yeah. Fine,” she said, doing her best to straighten herself. 

“What about the, uh…” He motioned toward her and she nodded. “Good. I gotta admit, I’m surprised your man didn’t show up.”

Almost instantly she felt her jaw tighten and her eyes narrow in anger. “I don’t have a man,” she snapped. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t need him.” _He’d just get himself blown up._ _Again._

Cress eyed her a moment but seemed to think better of saying anything else. The more Saiyans that gathered, the more voices served to distract her from thinking about Goten. Everyone seemed to be avoiding looking up at the ship, not that Bulla could really say why. She herself kept looking up to watch for any more signs of those creatures.

Tollash emerged from the crowd to approach her, followed closely by Avoca and Orgetta. “Princess. I’m glad to see you’re unharmed,” she said. She offered a quick glance to Cress and nodded. “Follow me. I’m going to need you to tell the king what you saw.”

“What about—” Bulla began, but Avoca had hurried forward and blocked her path.

“You need examining. King’s orders,” he said curtly. Bulla scowled but settled back into a nearby chair while the doctor ran his scanner over her. Her ribs still ached, though she did her best to sit so that it didn’t bother her. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she muttered. He snorted.

“Really? You don’t feel that?”

She paused. “Feel what, exactly?”

Avoca snorted again and scrutinized her over his glasses. “That was quite a lot of excitement up there. Your baby’s active and given that you’re only a half-breed, I’d be surprised if you couldn’t feel her moving at this point.” He wrinkled his nose and motioned behind himself. “I’m sure the damn moon isn’t doing you any favors either.”

 _The baby._ That’s what that stabbing feeling was? She glanced down and stared silently while Avoca continued his examination. Moving. Her baby was moving. Somehow, for some reason, only at this very moment did everything seemed to feel...different. She clenched her jaw a little tighter and leaned back, putting her hands behind herself to keep propped upright. It shouldn’t have been so weird, right? This was bound to happen. It was getting bigger, after all, and it would eventually start moving around. So why did she feel so strange all of a sudden? Why, _why_ , did her chest feel so tight when she thought about Totoma lying dead on the floor in her place?

 _It was almost me,_ she thought. _And I guess not just me._ If Totoma hadn’t been there, if she hadn’t walked in at that moment, then what? Would those things have killed her? And if she’d died, then her baby certainly would’ve too. She wanted so desperately to prove herself in so many ways — as a fighter to her father, as capable to Goten, independent to Marron, and to her mother…just better. Yet her baby wasn’t even born yet and already she’d nearly failed in something so _simple_.

“Princess?” Orgetta was speaking to her now. Avoca had gone to look over the Saiyan Cress had been with when they came to help her.

“A girl,” she said abruptly. She jerked her head up to look directly at Orgetta. “You guys say it’s a girl?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she said with a nod. “And before you ask, I already did a thorough scan. Everything is fine.”

 _How is it okay? I almost got her killed._ “No, it’s not,” she said. She shifted in her seat and chewed on her bottom lip. Something about what that Saiyan said back in her room bothered her. Just like that girl back in South City, he seemed to know what they were. “Those things...have you seen them before?”

Orgetta nodded casually. “Yes. They’re called Saibamen.”

“Saibamen?” It was the same word that that girl had used.

“We used to use them as training tools for children, but since our numbers have been dwindling the king ordered they be used for military operations,” Orgetta said. “Honestly I haven’t seen them up close myself in a number of years.”

“You didn’t see any on the ship?” Bulla asked. Orgetta shook her head.

“No. We just heard the fighting and were told to evacuate,” she said. 

Those Saibamen had been sent to kill her, just like the ones from before must have been. It was the only conclusion that made sense to Bulla, considering all the evidence. She looked back at the ship, where the smoke was beginning to die out. Before Orgetta could stop her, she made up her mind and marched off in the same direction she’d seen Tollash and Cress go, pushing through the Saiyans. Orgetta trailed behind, offer only a few protests until she fell silent. It wasn’t long before the king, Tollash, and Cress came into view. As she neared, she saw both Okara and a balding man standing on the king’s other side, and when they noticed her they each offered a quick nod, save for the king.

“Bulla. I’m pleased to see you’re unharmed,” the king said. His gaze shifted to Orgetta, who slowed to a halt and bowed. “I trust you were properly seen to.”

“Those Saibamen were sent to kill me,” Bulla said, deciding to skip whatever pretenses might have been appropriate. “I saw them before — in South City, one of them exploded on Goten.” She felt her stomach begin to knot at the sound of his name, though she did her best to ignore that feeling. A hush had fallen around the small group, with no one quite looking at anyone else directly. The king studied her a moment before he looked to Tollash and Cress.

“As I was saying. Tollash, you’ll be joining Bardock and his men in North City. It seems as though Chigo had chosen to draw this out longer than need be. In the meantime, Okara, I would like you to—”

“Excuse me!” Bulla interrupted. Her already short fuse had burnt out; her cheeks felt warm from her anger, and she knew she must have been glaring daggers at her grandfather. “Don’t you think an attempted assassination is worth _discussing?_ ”

“It’s already been discussed, as much as it needed to be,” the king said coolly. “It was an attempt and it failed. We will find those responsible and deal with them.”

“What about my dad? Where is he?” she pressed.

“Attending to other matters. We’ll inform him of what happened.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“I see no reason to say anything more,” said the king. “You and your child are unharmed, and we lost no one of any importance as a result. If you have any information that would be of use, then share it. For now, Cress will serve as your personal guard, seeing as he was so eager to volunteer. In fact,” he said and motioned for Cress. “See to it that the princess finds her new living arrangements. I imagine tonight’s events have taken a toll on her.”

“But I’m not—” Bulla began, but Cress had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away gently. Not a single person was even looking their way, save for the king’s placid stare. The king gave a curt nod and Cress pulled her again.

“As you say, my king,” he said with a quick bow. With that, he continued to pull Bulla along almost effortlessly. She fought back only momentarily before resigning herself to the king’s orders. For as impossible as he was to read, she’d clearly struck a nerve. Maybe even the same one her father seemed to enjoy striking himself.

“Let go,” she hissed, jerking her arm away from Cress’ grasp as soon as they’d gotten far enough away. He released her but didn’t let up his pace, walking down the sidewalk. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“In a few months you will,” he said. Her cheeks warmed and her hands dropped down to her stomach automatically.

“You _know_ what I meant,” she snapped. “Where are these so-called living arrangements?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. She came to a stop and stared at the back of his head until he stopped too and looked back at her. “Kidding. I know where they are, but I figured you probably aren’t too interested in resting right now.”

Bulla eyed him suspiciously, her arms folding under her chest. “You’re defying your king?”

“Not at all. I’ll take you to your new place. Just give the word and we can go right now,” he said. He took a step closer to her, close enough that under the streetlight she could see his face more clearly than before. He was too close, but she refused to look away. It made her heart beat a little faster. “Or we can find a place to train for a bit.”

“What makes you think I want to train with _you?_ ” she said. The corner of his mouth curved into a small smile.

“It can be our rematch from yesterday,” he said. “Come on. I promise it’ll be fun.”


	8. Bulma

One moment she was in one place, and the next another. Then another, and another. Until finally she opened her eyes and realized she was floating aimlessly through a black void. Numbly, she reached her hands out, but it was so dark she couldn’t see it in front of herself. Bulma grasped for something, _anything_ , to latch onto to stop her endless falling and found nothing. Vaguely she wondered why she hadn’t planned for something like this to happen. Didn’t she always have a plan?

_Of course I do,_ she told herself, more determined than ever. Somehow her fingers found their way to the sides of the device on her wrist, groping blindly until she found her mark. She pressed down on the middle button as hard as she could, though it hardly felt like she was doing anything at all. A moment passed and nothing happened, until suddenly it did. All at once, she fell faster and faster, so fast that she couldn’t hear her own scream. The darkness continued on before it abruptly stopped and a sea of white light flooded her vision. 

As her eyes began to focus, shapes came into her view. Tall, grey shapes that eventually began to look like massive columns. It took her a moment to realize she was lying on her back; the solid surface beneath her felt like cold stone, and as she struggled to sit up, it struck her just how icy the air felt. Chilled, she shivered involuntarily and looked down at her device. The screen was black for only a second before it turned back on and she breathed a sigh of relief.

That relief vanished when she realized she was alone. She got to her feet and looked around quickly, her eyes scanning over her surroundings.

“Charlotte!” she called out. Her throat felt raw from her screams. “Charlotte, where are you?” Just as she began to worry, she heard a cough and a low groan. The sounds were followed by the girl awkwardly climbing over a fallen column. She had one hand against the side of her head. 

“I-I’m here,” she said shakily. “Are you okay?” Bulma nodded and took another look around. Wherever they were, it certainly didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen on earth. Both the walls and floors were made up of some kind of stone, though it held no single color. There was a rainbow-like hue to it and every time she moved she saw a different color reflected in the stone. She stepped closer to the wall and reached out to touch it, then quickly withdrew her hand as if it burned.

“What the…” she said slowly before reaching out to touch it again. It was cold, just like the air around them, but it was smoother than any other surface she’d ever touched. Impossibly smooth, really.

“We should probably get moving,” Charlotte said, interrupting her thoughts. “If what Rottece said about the calibrations, then we should be able to find dad real quick, right?”

“Right,” said Bulma, pulling her hand away and nodding. She looked down at her device and pressed the button on the side once, then punched in a couple of numbers on the screen when the display came up. The little red light on top began to blink slowly and she smiled. “Looks like we’re on track already!”

No sooner had she spoken and taken a step than the ground below them rumbled violently. It shook her off her feet and back down to the floor with a heavy thud. Charlotte was quick to her side and helped her up, but the rumbling didn’t stop.

“Hurry, grandma!” Charlotte said, looking up as though afraid the ceiling above might collapse. The two rushed ahead and down a long, stone hallway. Along the way, Bulma noticed their path was lit by floating white orbs that seemed to move as they passed. The further they went, the stranger the air felt — it was still cold, yet now it was also accompanied by a weight she hadn’t noticed before.

Charlotte hurried them along until they managed to reach what appeared to be the end of the hall. A tall, thin door sat before them, made from the same odd stone they were surrounded by. The rumbling came to a steady halt, allowing them a moment to examine the door. It was lined by a glow similar to the ones the orbs were putting off, but when Bulma reached out to touch it, it was as if she was touching a tiny, concentrated current of wind.

“I wonder where we are,” Bulma mused, mostly to herself. She glanced back at Charlotte, who didn’t look nearly as interested in the idea as she was. In fact, the girl looked more like she was on guard than anything. She chewed on her bottom lip before she nodded and stepped forward.

“Well, I guess there’s only one real way to find out, huh?” she said. She regarded the door a moment, then reached out and pressed both of her hands flat against it and pushed. When it didn’t move, she tried again — then again, and again, and again, until she let out a frustrated sigh and stepped back. “Man, this one’s a toughie.”

“Hmm...maybe we can’t open it from—” Bulma began but was swiftly interrupted by the flash of gold light emitting off of her granddaughter. 

Charlotte took another step back before she rushed forward, slamming her shoulder hard into the stone door. Small pebbles fell from the ceiling as a new rumble rolled beneath them, this time reverberating through the walls as well. The line of light surrounding the door flickered out to nothing. Bulma held her breath and watched the door closely, not that it helped any. Just as Charlotte moved to try again, however, another sound echoed through the hallway. Like small chimes in a gentle breeze, preceded by the sound of stone grinding against stone as the door slowly opened.

“Huh! Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be,” Bulma said. “Good thing I brought along a Super Saiyan.” Charlotte looked back at her and offered a toothy, bashful grin.

“It might’ve been a little bit overkill,” she said, then she dropped the form and pushed the door open a little wider, granting them more room to step out. 

Bulma had been to alien planets before. She’d seen things most normal humans could only ever dream of. But what she saw when she stepped out of that stone hallway...well, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything like it. Wherever they were, it was like something out of a fantasy world. Tall, imposing thin mountains touched the sky above, with waterfalls of pure white water rushing them. The sky itself had a purple tint to it, dotted with what she could only assume were stars but they looked as if they were somehow _closer_. And the ground below them was still covered with that same stone, though patches of warm yellow grass poked through several cracks before revealing wider fields dotted with red flowers.

“I...wow. This place is beautiful,” she said quietly. She stepped forward gingerly, looking down only enough so that she wouldn’t misstep. The grass beneath her boot seemed to shatter as though they were made of glass. “But I wonder…” She forced herself to look away from the beauty around them and down at the device on her wrist. The red light was still blinking steadily, but when she clicked to open up the navigation screen, she was disappointed that it only showed her and Charlotte.

“No luck?” Charlotte asked, looking up from her own device. Bulma shook her head and the girl sighed. “Well...I see a path over that way, by the waterfall. Maybe he’s in that direction?” Having decided on their destination, Bulma let Charlotte lead the way.

With the initial shock of the stunning beauty around them finally beginning to wear off, Bulma realized more and more that there was something completely _off_ about this place. For all the waterfalls and grass, there wasn’t a single sign of life anywhere they went — no bugs, no birds, nothing. What few trees they came across looked like they’d been placed there deliberately, sitting in neat rows and perfectly trimmed to the right size and shape. Their purple leaves swayed gently yet she felt not even a hint of a breeze. 

“Do you feel that?” Charlotte asked abruptly, tearing her from her thoughts.

Bulma paused and thought a moment before shaking her head. “No. Why? Do you sense something?” 

“I...I guess it’s nothing,” the girl said. “Yeah! Totally nothing.”

Regardless, she seemed to walk more cautiously, like she was readying herself for a fight. Bulma stayed behind her, but couldn’t help looking over her own shoulder as well. Gorgeous as the place was, it was still another dimension with any number of dangers lurking around the corner. But no matter what came their way, she wasn’t about to let any of it stop her from saving her son or her friends. 

“Wait!” Charlotte’s yell made her jump. “There’s someone over there!”

Bulma looked to see where she was pointing. Indeed, off in the distance appeared to be a figure. Charlotte began to run ahead, leaving Bulma behind to trail after her in a vain attempt to keep up.

“H-Hang on, kiddo! I can’t run as fast as you!” Either Charlotte didn’t hear her, or she simply wasn’t listening. Whatever the case, as the two ran toward the figure, a heavy fog seemed to be settling upon them and Bulma quickly lost sight of her granddaughter. She slowed only enough to ensure she wouldn’t run into anything or lose her balance over some hidden cliffside. “Hey! Hey, where’d you go?!”

“I’m here!” For all the good that did. It sounded like Charlotte’s voice was coming from every direction. Bulma did her best not to get too turned around, but that was a tall order for how thick the fog was. “Grandma, over here!” 

“I can’t — I have no idea where ‘here’ is, okay?” she called back. 

“Just keep going straight! I’ll find you, don’t worry!” 

_It’s a little late for that,_ she thought. The fog was impossibly thick, enough that it was like she was taking little drinks of water every time she took a breath. Bulma continued to walk for what felt like several minutes before she found a wall made from that same stone as before. She reached out to touch it and looked around, straining her eyes to find some sign of where her granddaughter was.

“Grandma!” Charlotte called out, as if on cue.

“Here! I found a wall,” she said. 

“Okay! I’m gonna fly up and see if I can find out where it leads,” Charlotte said. “Right! I’m going now. Just stay there!”

Bulma remained where she was, her hand still pressed against the stone wall. She watched it and noticed how the colors seemed to swirl among themselves, combining into shades of pink, blue, purple and even green at times. It was like watching paint mixing with water; beautifully distracting to the point where she nearly forgot what she was doing. She blinked and tore her gaze away from the wall, doing her best to ignore how heavy her own head felt at that moment. It must’ve been the fog.

“I found a staircase!” Charlotte’s voice came from above, though when she looked up, all she saw was more fog. “And I can sort of see you too!”

“Great! Now, where’s this staircase supposed to be?” Bulma said.

There was a pause. A pause that lasted a little longer than Bulma would’ve liked. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her own and jumped at the touch. “Sorry! I didn’t wanna lose you again,” Charlotte said, smiling wide. “Come on!”

They made their way along the wall carefully, walking with it as it curved and revealed a small pond of green water. Both stepped over it gingerly, walking over more of those smooth stones until they reached the bottom of the staircase. Unlike nearly everything else they saw, the stairs were made of some kind of white, dull-looking rock. For what it lacked in color, it made up for in the unique designs lined evenly over its surface in long, curved strokes. It only made her even more curious over whether or not they’d come across anyone else while they were there.

Going up the stairs saw an end to the unbearable fog, luckily enough. The steps continued higher up above the foggy grounds below, up along the side of a thin mountain. Charlotte led the way, occasionally glancing back behind her as if to be sure Bulma was still there. By the time they neared the top, the air was so thin that she was getting dizzier by the second. But the sight of another door caused her to let out a loud, exhausted sigh.

“Seriously? Another one of these things?” Bulma said, frustrated. It too had the same glowing line around it and felt just like the door from before. Charlotte passed by her and leaned against it as she took in a few deep breaths.

“Okay...just give me a second,” Charlotte said breathlessly. She slid down the door and onto the ground, where Bulma moved to join her.

“I didn’t think you’d be out of breath,” she said. 

“I think...I think it’s something in the air. Everything feels weird to me,” her granddaughter said. She tilted her head back to look up toward the purple sky then turned her gaze to Bulma. “Earlier I thought I saw someone, but now that we’re here I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe...maybe my dad isn’t here after all.”

Bulma nudged her with her elbow. “Hey, we don’t know that! Remember he got here way earlier than we did, so there’s a good chance he’s trying to find his own way out.”

Charlotte nodded, though she didn’t seem very convinced. She shifted where she sat and looked down at her wrist, pushing the sleeve of her suit up so she could look at the device. The metal of her arm reflected some of the light from above and Bulma had to keep herself from staring too long. Questions had been forming in her head off and on since she pieced together who Charlotte was and seeing her arm had her wondering about the circumstances under which someone so young wound up with that kind of injury. In fact, now that she was sitting so close, she could see a few faint scars on the left side of Charlotte’s face as well, trailing down her neck and obscured only by the collar of her suit.

“Say...I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she began. “About your arm. How did—”

“Hey, look! Another blip!” Charlotte interrupted, holding her wrist up to show her. Bulma blinked and looked down at her own. Sure enough, the little red light was blinking rapidly. Her granddaughter hopped up to her feet and turned to face the door. “He’s probably inside, right? I’m gonna open the door.”

Bulma stood and moved out of the way while Charlotte ascended into Super Saiyan. Just like the last time, she slammed her shoulder into the door hard, causing the mountain around them to shudder from the force of her hit. The door gave way enough for her to push it open, allowing them to slip inside. A rush of cool air suddenly washed over her, and she let out a gasp.

It was as if they’d been teleported to another part of the land. Instead of the inside of a mountain, they found themselves at the base of a new structure, so unlike the others they’d seen so far. The stone below them seemed to be of similar properties as the rest, but it had a more solid violet color even with other colors shifting beneath its surface. Intricate circles and triangles wove themselves across the stone, creating a pathway that led up to what was unmistakably a building of some kind. 

They approached cautiously, both taking in their surroundings with a mixture of awe and wariness. Two pillars framed the open doors of the building, overflowing with blue and red flowers in golden grass. A warm purple glow emanated from inside, beckoning them closer even when Bulma felt like her stomach was turning over itself. Doubt crept into her mind as she wondered if Goten really was there, or if they’d been led astray by something from that endless black void.

But if Bulma thought anything from outside was beautiful, then none of it compared to what she saw now. The violet and multicolored stone covered the ground in a checker-board pattern all around the round room. Two other doors flanked either side of one another to the left and right of the one they’d just entered from. A large circular pool sat in the center of the room, with a haze of purple mist lifting slowly, lining its small fencing with a low fog. Bulma’s gaze trailed over to a staircase that seemed to spiral upward, which she followed until her eyes landed on something else that nearly took her breath away.

An orb nearly half the size of the room itself hovered above. Several rings slowly revolved around it in different directions, though one of the rings had what looked to be another orb that had been cut in half. So transfixed by the sight before her that she barely realized that the beeping noise was coming from her device.

“Dad!” Charlotte said abruptly. Bulma looked up at where she was pointing and barely caught the sight of a figure passing through a window on the staircase. The girl gave chase immediately, with Bulma trailing behind her once again.

“Hang on, don’t just leave me here! Remember what happened last time!” she called out, but it was no use. Charlotte was three times as fast as a normal human, and it was all Bulma could do to not trip over her own feet trying to catch up to her. She finally did several staircases later, though by then, the figure seemed to have gone.

Another door sat before them, although this one appeared to be made of some kind of metal and could be easily seen through. It hardly took any effort for Charlotte to open it and step out onto a balcony that seemed much closer to the orb. Something about it filled Bulma with dread, and it was difficult to ignore even with how rapidly her device was beeping.

“I don’t get it,” Charlotte said, clearly frustrated. “I...papa should be here, right? Isn’t that what this is saying?”

“There’s no way we could’ve been that far off,” Bulma conceded. “These devices are supposed to be linked together. I don’t understand what could possibly have—”

“You are far from home.”

The voice sent a shock of surprise through Bulma so suddenly that it felt like her bones tried to climb out of her skin. She wheeled around to face the speaker; a cloaked figure with a black hood stood before them. Charlotte moved so that she was between the two, prepared for a fight no doubt, but the figure merely raised a gloved hand and shook its head.

“We were told to expect you,” it said. 

“Who told you to expect us? And who are you anyway?” Bulma asked, eyeing the figure suspiciously.

It seemed to regard her for a moment before she realized it was moving. Well, not really moving — just like the stones around them, it looked as though something was rippling through its form, shifting and changing its shape slowly. By the time she realized what it was doing, it started to look more human. Instead of the black-cloaked figure it was before, it’d taken on the appearance of an older, kindly looking man with gray hair and a long, bushy beard. 

“Is this better?” it said, glancing between them. Its voice had gone from a hushed whisper into something more jovial and warm, but Bulma couldn’t say it put her anymore at ease. “We chose this form to put your mind at ease.”

Bulma shook her head. She’d seen far too much in her lifetime to be shaken, even if it was incredibly strange to watch. Charlotte, on the other hand, took a step back from it. “So are you gonna tell us who you are now?” Bulma asked again.

“We are the keepers of this place,” it said. “We were told to expect your arrival, and so we waited. But...it seems we were lied to.” The old man’s face frowned as it eyed the two of them.

“Lied to? About what? And who told you to expect us?” Bulma pressed. 

It sighed wearily and slumped its shoulders, as though a heavy burden was weighing down on it. “One came before you, seeking what you do now. It _assured_ us that we would see a beautiful woman...yet we only see a child and an old woman. What a terrible lie!”

“ _Excuse me?!_ ” Bulma yelled. Her cheeks felt hot with rage and she stormed closer to the creature. But Charlotte was quick to intervene and rushed between them, holding her hands up to stop her from advancing any further.

“Grandma! Remember we’re here to find papa, right?” she said. She turned around to face it while Bulma crossed her arms angrily, fury still present in her mind as she glared it down. “Can you help us? We’re looking for my dad and we think he’s here.”

“Well...we had planned to before we knew we had been lied to,” it said, shaking its head. “But no. No, we are afraid we cannot help you now. Please leave immediately.”

“It was Goku, wasn’t it?” Bulma said, snappishly. She crossed her arms and glared at it. “He’s the one who told you to help us, right?” Offering her up certainly sounded like something he’d do for the millionth time. One of these days he’d learn to stop doing that.

It nodded and sighed, somehow managing to pout through the bushy beard. “We thought we could trust it. How terrible to be lied to not once but twice over, after it assured us that it would keep our world safe from evil.”

Bulma had to bite back her anger, her lips thinning while she took in a deep breath. If Goku had promised to keep them safe from evil, then that could only mean one thing in her mind. “You know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Where I come from, I’m considered a great beauty, and so is my granddaughter here! You should be showing us more respect.”

Charlotte looked at her in what could only be described as abject horror. “I-I’m not—” she began, but Bulma cut her off.

“And don’t even get me started on my daughter! She’s so beautiful that _Lord Frieza_ kept her as a prize,” she paused and eyed the creature for a moment. It was a subtle change, but she noted the shift in its features when she said Frieza’s name. “But I suppose if you don’t know who Lord Frieza is, that wouldn’t mean much to you, would it?”

“Hmph! That evil thing has come seeking our wisdom many times before. The one you call Goku claimed it could stop that evil thing, yet now we see its promises cannot be trusted,” it said haughtily. “We cannot help you.”

“Stopping Frieza is what we do,” she insisted. “We came here looking for Goku and two others and my devices led us here, so that means you _can_ help us.”

It paused and looked her over suspiciously. Something about what she said seemed to have struck another nerve. “No lesser life forms are capable of such feats of technology. We do not believe you.”

“Oh yeah?!” she said, storming toward it and jutting her arm out to show it the device on her wrist. “Take a look for yourself! This so-called ‘lesser life form’ managed to create something capable of traveling between dimensions. Not only am I _beautiful_ , but I’m a genius to boot! You can’t get any better than that.”

There was a long pause while it examined her wrist, its pupil-less eyes transfixed on the device. Now that she was so close to it, Bulma could see the same strange coloring effect shifting through its almost translucent skin. The silence was broken with a sound close to rushing water; faint whispers flooded the room while the alien seemed to be lost in its own thoughts. Finally, it nodded and returned its gaze to her as the whispers faded away.

“We are impressed,” it said. “Very well. We will consider assisting you.”

“Really?” Bulma said, surprised. “It’s about time!”

“Where’s my dad?” Charlotte said abruptly, hurrying to join Bulma at her side. “The navigation told us he was here, so he _has_ to be here!”

“There are no fathers here,” it said, stroking its beard thoughtfully. “This place is a place of knowledge. Yet only a few are privileged enough to be granted such. First, you must tell us the truth.”

“The truth? About what?” Bulma repeated, frowning slightly.

“Whatever we ask.”

She thought a moment before nodding. “Well, I guess that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“We assure you many have failed,” it said. “First: you must tell us your names. For each creature who passes through our realm, we must record their presence.”

“Seriously?” she said with a laugh. “Bulma Briefs.” They both looked to Charlotte, who shifted awkwardly where she stood.

“Um...I-I’m not supposed to say,” she said slowly, glancing at Bulma from the corner of her eye. “The Supreme Kai of Time said—”

“We do not subscribe to the whims or wishes of a Kai,” it said with a huff. “You must tell us these truths, or we will rescind our offer.”

Bulma offered a warm smile to Charlotte and nodded. “Don’t worry! I already know Charlotte’s not your real name. There’s no way my own daughter would choose something so boring,” she joked.

That didn’t seem to provide the girl much comfort, but regardless she relented. “It...it’s Eschalot. Son Eschalot.”

“Oh, how cute!” Bulma said happily. Eschalot’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as she looked down at the ground with a small smile. Part of her was a little disappointed that she didn’t have a Briefs name, though she supposed that didn’t really surprise her given the relationship she had with her daughter. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder where she’d heard it before. “I promise I won’t say anything to anyone else, okay?”

“Quiet now,” it interrupted abruptly. Its mouth had curved into a frown while it regarded them both with an unblinking gaze. Whatever personality it’d had before seemed to have melted away. “We have heard your names and seen your paths. You have both walked in shadows far greater than your own, made enemies of countless beings and allies of too few. Your persistence is...admirable. But we have watched you stray, time and again.” It turned to look at Bulma specifically, and something about it made her skin crawl. “Your reckless selfishness has seen far more harm fall upon your world than any evil combined. How long before you stray on _this_ path, when you have strayed on so many others?”

Silence settled between them. Bulma couldn’t say exactly how long it lasted, but she found herself lingering on what it said. It wasn’t like it was wrong to say what it did; she’d been failing for over twenty years, stumbling over her own feet in every area of her life. She barely knew her own children. It was her inventions that ensured the cities were transformed into what they were now and her designs that protected Frieza’s armies. But...what could she have done? It was either that or...

“We won’t,” Eschalot said, dragging Bulma from her thoughts. “We’ll save everyone, go back home, and stop Frieza for good.”

“Right,” Bulma said. It was hard to muster up the same determination, but she did try. She had to try, if only to save her family. “We’re _not_ going to fail.”

Its eyes remained on Bulma for entirely too long, studying her before it shifted its gaze to Eschalot. Bulma felt another chill shiver through her skin and did her best to ignore it. “The cost will be great. Are you prepared, child?”

There was no hesitation in Eschalot’s nod, nor in the way she squared her shoulders when she spoke. Youthful confidence wore itself well on her. “Absolutely.”

“Very well.” It vanished into a cloud of black smoke and shot by them, back toward the orb. The rings around it came to a halt before aligning themselves into a perfectly straight line right across the center of the orb, while one ring turned to bring the half orb in front of the balcony. Another rumble shook the ground beneath them, and as it did the orb began to glow brighter and brighter until they both had to shield their eyes. When the white light faded and they looked again, the orb appeared to have opened.

“It’s...it’s a portal,” Bulma said. She looked down at the device on her wrist and saw it was blinking again. “We’re still on the right track.”

They stepped through and found themselves in yet another stone-covered room. Like the one before, it too was round in shape, with a large pool sitting in the middle with a purple haze lazily rising from it. This time, the stone was a deep purple color, with light blues and greys shifting through it. Hundreds of jagged, bright blue and red crystals littered the floor and walls, all the way up to the ceiling. As they passed by one of the crystals, Bulma could’ve sworn she heard voices.

“We will grant you passage,” the now-disembodied voice said. “It will require a great deal of strength.”

“What will?” Eschalot asked. Bulma paused by one of the crystals and looked down, then let out a small yell at what she saw.

“Trunks! It’s Trunks!” she said. It was like watching a small television screen; it was very clearly Trunks, but he was sitting at a table, hunched over what looked like business records. For some reason, he was wearing glasses and a suit, and his hair had gone back to the way she’d remembered it being. “Where is he? Let him out of there!”

“These are constructs of their own minds. Your companions are caught in their desires,” the voice said. “They will not come out willingly.”

“Desires?” Bulma repeated, skeptically. She eyed the crystal again, watched the way Trunks leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. “He looks bored to me.”

“The desire for normalcy, stability, safety can be interpreted in many different ways.”

“I found dad!” Eschalot called from the other side of the room. “He’s…” She fell silent and Bulma tore herself away from Trunks’ crystal to join her at her side. “He looks happy. He’s with mom.”

Goten was sitting with Bulla on a couch in front of a coffee table. There were two young boys on the other side of the table and it looked as though they were playing a card game of some kind. Both Goten and Bulla looked happier than she’d ever seen them, yet she couldn’t deny the eeriness of it all. 

“You said they’re caught. As in trapped?” Bulma said.

“In a way. They are content in their utopias.”

“How do we get them out?” Eschalot asked.

“You cannot. Only they can save themselves.”

Eschalot stared down at the sight of her parents for a few seconds, then moved away from the crystal and off to the other side of the room. Bulma took one last glance down at Goten and Bulla as they laughed while one of their sons pulled the corners of his mouth to stick his tongue out at them. As happy as they looked, Bulma reminded herself that it was all fake. “So, how do we do that?”

“Even a paradise can lose its beauty when one notices the cage,” it said. “But you must choose. It will take an extraordinary amount of energy to reach them. Only one may be saved at a time.”

“Grandma!” Eschalot called out. “Grandma, I found jiji! I mean, Goku!”

Bulma rushed over to look at the crystal. Indeed, there he was, all spiky hair and big smiles surrounded by his own family. He was speaking to a young woman that Bulma didn’t recognize at first, but the sight of Videl and Gohan nearby pieced it together for her. It had to be Pan, and the realization made her heart hurt. That sweet girl had been taken from them far too soon. One of the first in a series of terrible, horrific events that eventually broke everyone around them.

“That is the one,” the voice said. Personality returned to it almost instantly. “It told us it would keep the evil thing at bay, yet there it sits, content in its own desires.”

“How exactly does this even happen?” Bulma asked. With the initial shock wearing off, it was easier for her to think more clearly. None of this made any real sense to her, especially with these crystals. “I mean, Goku came in here chasing Frieza, managed to swing by you, and now he’s somehow _there?_ How do we know you’re not the one who put him there?”

The old man reappeared directly in front of her, seemingly out of thin air with a loud pop. It felt as though her hair nearly flew right off her skull. “We are the keepers of this realm, which oversees all other realms! We do not deal with petty mortal desires, nor are we interested in such things.”

“But...didn’t you help him because you wanted to see a pretty woman?” Eschalot asked.

“Yeah, you know that sure does sound like a desire to me,” Bulma added, matter-of-factly.

The old man’s face turned a shade of red, then purple while its cheeks puffed with indignation. Then, all at once, whatever emotion it felt vanished and it closed its eyes. “We are one of many. Our...interests are varied.” It moved past them to Goku’s crystal and looked down at it. “This realm is only one of many millions, but it was created specifically for the one you call Goku.”

“But did _you_ create it?” Eschalot asked.

“No. We only oversee that which is created, unable to interfere in any way.” At their visible confusion, it continued. “Very well. We will share our truths, as you have shared yours. We have seen your paths and know that you are familiar with the concept of dragon gods granting wishes. Our realm was home to such a creature. We flourished, thanks to its abilities and our people stretched far across the various dimensions we oversaw. Once, we were the most respected and feared among the stars. But…our endless need for more, our greed and our gluttony twisted it into something terrible. Our wishes became tainted; no wish was without a great cost. We realized too late what we had done.

“In our desperation to stop it, we made one final wish. However, in doing so, we unknowingly made it stronger than ever, allowing it to unleash its true fury. It retaliated, destroyed our way of life and trapped us within the confines of our realm. As punishment for our greed, we are forced to watch as it brings new victims in constructs of their own desires until they are drained of their energy. And now that that wretched, evil thing has it, we have watched it grow fat feeding on desire.”

“Frieza,” Bulma said, her voice barely above a whisper. It nodded. “How did he find it?”

“The dragon sought that vile thing out of its own accord,” it said. “We assume that it saw a chance to feed even more, to escape the bonds of this dimension.” Its gaze shifted toward Goku’s crystal and Bulma felt a chill run through her skin. “With enough energy, it can do that.”

“ _Goku,_ ” Bulma whispered. “If anyone has that kind of energy...it’s definitely him.”

“Yes. Soon the one you call Goku will make the same mistakes we did, and the dragon will grow even stronger. We are certain your realm is not long for existence.”

Bulma still had a myriad of questions on her mind; the rifts, Frieza, the dragon...but now didn’t feel like the right time. Crystals...Goku...suddenly, it all came together. _This_ was the place Goten saw when he’d nearly been pulled into the rift. It had to have been.

“A few months ago, Goten says he saw this place. Then a few days later he just...walked right into a rift,” Bulma said. “He said Goku told him to come save him. Did Goku really send for him?”

“A trap. These so-called rifts are the dragon’s attempts to reach your world, to collect more energy in order to release itself from its prison,” it said. “Passing through a rift opens your mind to its influence. When you leave this place, you too will leave with a piece of the dragon inside you.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Bulma said, her attention snapping back to the old man’s unreadable face.

“It is the curse of this realm,” it said. “It is why we may never leave. Its influence is a parasite on the mind.”

“ _Now_ you tell us!” she snapped angrily. “There’s a way to get rid of it, isn’t there?”

“Yes. We will show you another time.”

Bulma huffed irritably, but when she turned toward Eschalot to speak with her, the girl was still staring intently at Goku’s crystal. “Eschalot?”

“Y-Yeah,” Eschalot said. She looked up and glanced between Bulma and the old man before taking a step toward it. “I want to go inside. I can save him before the dragon gets to him!”

It considered her with an unflinching gaze, but Bulma was quick to speak up. “Hold on a sec, didn’t you hear what he just said? That dragon already knows about us, which means—”

“I’m not afraid of it,” Eschalot said. “But if we don’t get jiji out of there before he can make a wish, then he’ll be trapped forever. Right?” She looked back at the old man, who had begun stroking its beard again. “He’ll be stuck there.”

“We have seen your path. You are already aware of the answer. But only one of you may enter.”

“Right...well, it’ll have to be me, just in case there’s any fighting,” Eschalot said.

“Hang on a minute. I can’t let you do this alone,” Bulma said firmly. “We started this together, so we’re going to keep doing this together.”

“But you heard what they said! Only one of us can go in,” Eschalot argued.

“Then I’ll go! He knows me, he’ll listen to what I say,” Bulma said.

“You are not strong enough,” it interjected. “Your frail body would tear itself apart.”

“See?” Eschalot said, motioning toward it. “It’ll be alright! I can do this.”

Bulma shook her head, unwilling to give up so easily. None of this felt right to her; not the old man, not the crystals, not this dragon. Yet she was having a hard time finding an argument. “But, Eschalot—”

“Grandma, in my timeline, jiji never came back. No one ever found him,” Eschalot said. “We never knew what happened and it killed papa to act like it never bothered him. I became a time patroller so I could help find him and he’s _right there_. I’m not asking you to let me do this. I’m just telling you that I’m going to.”

Bulma eyed her granddaughter. She recognized that look in her eyes, the way she turned back to the old man to tell it again that she was ready. It was a focus so sharp that it struck her how familiar it was. There was no room for arguing, no time for coming up with a different solution. So instead, she relented.

“Alright. You win,” she said. “I’ll work on getting through to your dad. I think I can figure out a way to calibrate this device to connect with his own...maybe find a way to communicate with him through it. But when you get back, we’re going to help Trunks _together_ , alright?” 

Eschalot looked at her in surprise, then quickly smiled. “Yeah!”

“Some last words of warning,” the old man stepped closer. “Even the bones of a dragon are dangerous, for they still carry the soul. Do not trust what the whispers say to you.”

They nodded, although Bulma couldn’t help the sense of dread that settled in her stomach. She looked back to Eschalot, who didn’t seem very fazed by the warning. She gave them both a wide smile and a thumbs up. “Don’t worry! I already know. I’m ready to go now.”

“Then, prepare yourself. This will not be pleasant for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one! Of course during quarantine is when my computer decides it doesn't want to cooperate. I had to write pretty much the whole thing on my phone and then go back and rewrite/expand/edit stuff to make it a little more coherent.
> 
> If you haven't already, then I recommend taking a peek at ["Home"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275052). No particular reason, of course ;)


	9. Marron

From where she stood, Marron could see the line leading all the way down the road far beyond the gate. A dozen boats came and went, people stepping out of them to hurry into line, carrying whatever belongings they could. It was a heartbreaking sight if she was honest. But it didn’t come without a growing concern, and she turned her head enough to signal her companion.

“I’m counting near a thousand.” Elo stood next to her, his arms crossed as he surveyed the same line she did. “Give or take, maybe. Probably from the nearby villages. Seems they’re running from the Saiyans and Frieza’s Forces.”

“What’s the nearest city again?” she asked.

“Mushroom City, but they’ve fallen on hard times too. And there’s another island not far from here with a couple of smaller villages,” he said. “We should’ve expected this.”

“We should’ve, but we didn’t,” she said. A shadow crossed over them and she glanced up to see her parents fly by, likely off to meet the refugees at the front. They hadn’t seemed to notice her. “Any word from West City?”

“Just the usual.” Elo stepped closer and produced a tablet from his bag, then handed it off to her to look over. “Qubi got back to us about Bulla, though. Apparently she offered Saiyan protection in exchange for her cooperation.”

She glanced down at the screen, taking in the images from the slums where their contacts still resided. It was odd to see the streets as empty as they were in the photos, though judging by the added security measures she supposed it was to be expected. The hardened-looking soldiers in the pictures certainly didn’t seem like the types _she’d_ want to cross paths with. Her gaze trailed up from the pictures toward the two figures off in the distance, the ones she knew to be the Saiyans still waiting for Gohan.

“I’m surprised she turned it down,” Marron said. “What about Haka?”

“Haka agreed to our terms. They told her they’d send her information first,” he said. “Marron, there’s something else.” 

The hesitation in his voice was clear, enough that it drew her attention to him. “What is it?” she pressed gently.

“Pasley says there was an attack on the Saiyan ship,” he said. He quickly followed up his words at the frown that touched her lips. “Bulla’s alright, don’t worry. She got out without a scratch on her. But it got me wondering if the information you received was correct... the stuff about the king, I mean.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Well, if what Pasley says is true, then Bulla was the intended target, not the king,” he said. “The king was nowhere near where the attack happened.”

Marron looked away from him and back toward the line of people. It didn’t make sense to her that anyone would go after Bulla, especially with the intent to _kill._ Bulla was too valuable to Frieza, even after everything that had happened, and after the effort Almone and her men had gone through to get her back it simply didn’t track that they’d want to kill her. But the Saiyans had no reason to kill her either, even the ones still loyal to Frieza.

“Any ideas on who was responsible?” she asked. “Saiyan? Forces? Disgruntled civilian?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. “No, nothing. Just that they used those creatures we saw a while back, the ones that explode when they grab you. Mai told me they’re called saibamen.”

“I assume Vegeta wasn’t there,” she said. At his nod, she took in a breath and used the tablet to begin typing a message. She doubted Bulla would answer her after their last heated exchange, but she couldn’t deny her worry. As stubborn and fool-hardy and infuriating as that girl was, Marron still cared deeply for her. 

“Think she’ll reply this time?” Elo asked as if he could read her mind.

“Even if she doesn’t, it’s worth leaving that door open for her,” she said calmly. “See if Pasley or any of your contacts can get close, just to keep an eye on her. I have a feeling this won’t be the last time they try to kill her.”

“I admire your dedication,” he said. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and he held both hands up. “I just mean if I were talking to someone like...like _that_ , I’d have given up a long, long time ago.”

Marron thought for a moment while she considered his words. To her, it was perfectly simple to understand: Bulla’s stubborn, hardheadedness was a matter of her breeding, given who her parents were. Everything else was the result of being raised by Frieza and his men to be something to play with. The days when Bulla’s stubborn nature earned her time in the training room were the worst of them; she would’ve taken months of pointless arguing over the days she had to sit with the dazed, glassy-eyed girl who barely recognized her own name and blindly complied to whatever orders she was given until Frieza got bored with that too. The mental and emotional toll it took on her reflected itself in her personality even now, but Marron supposed it was difficult to understand for those not so intimately familiar with Frieza and his methods.

“It’s easier to imagine you’re dealing with a teenager,” she said at last. “Bulla didn’t have the same opportunities you and I did to mature. Knowing she still has someone looking out for her will help her even if she pretends it doesn’t.”

“Fair enough. I guess being pregnant doesn’t help any,” he conceded.

“No, I imagine it doesn’t.” Truth be told, she would have rather it hadn’t happened at all, miracle or not. But what’s done is done, and just as she hit send, she looked up in time to see her mother approaching. “Please contact them quickly, Elo,” she said as she passed the tablet back to him. He quickly took his leave as 18 landed in front of her, offering only a polite bow as he did. Marron smiled pleasantly at her mother and stepped closer to hug her.

“Looks like you’re about to have your hands full,” 18 said, then turned to gesture toward the crowds of people coming into the city. “There are a lot of kids coming in, and most of them are alone. You might want to consider delegating.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” Marron agreed. “There are a lot more people fleeing from the war than we anticipated, it seems.”

“We’ve got a reputation now. Defeating Almone and having a couple of Saiyans at our doorstep seems to make people think we’re the safest option,” her mother said.

Marron looked at her curiously. “You don’t think so?”

Her mother shrugged casually and folded her arms across her abdomen. “More people draws more attention.”

“Well, maybe it also draws more help,” Marron offered. “Any capable fighters among them?”

18 turned and made for the door to the stairway and Marron followed. “A few, maybe. But even more of them are just farmers and fishermen. Your father thinks we should set up a training ground and start teaching people to defend themselves.”

“You don’t agree,” Marron said. It wasn’t a question, considering how clear her mother’s displeasure was in her voice.

“I told him it was probably a waste of time,” she said. “Then he started talking about his time with Master Roshi and upset himself.”

Marron nodded. “I’m sure he’ll come around. Perhaps it would be good to train as many people as we can, in case we come under attack again. Mai could probably use help with the guard.”

“We’ll see. We still have to deal with the prisoners Goten insisted we keep alive.” As they reached the bottom of the stairs, 18 paused and turned to face her daughter, her eyes searching her face carefully. “What would you do with them, if you had the choice?”

She’d become used to this line of questioning. There was no doubt in her mind her mother loved her very much, but she’d picked up on the guarded, careful curiosity the woman seemed to have when it came to her and her thoughts. _It’s not personal,_ her mother had told her not long ago. _But I’ve seen what Frieza does to people._

“Most people that serve Frieza don’t do so willingly. For those born into it, it’s an obligation thrust upon them without choice. I don’t believe people are incapable of redemption or change... Char showed me as much,” Marron said. “I would give them limited freedom. Put them to work helping the city and if they’re cooperative, perhaps we’ll find new, valuable allies to add to our ranks. If we treat them with kindness, I’m sure they’ll see we’re not the monsters we’re portrayed as by Frieza’s propaganda machine.”

18 nodded, seemingly satisfied by her answer. “What if they don’t cooperate?”

“Then I would execute them,” Marron said, unflinchingly. “It’s an ugly punishment, but...” Her gaze trailed over to a window, out to the streets where people passed by to go about their daily lives. “As much as I would prefer not to, I consider the lives of those we protect to be too precious to risk.”

“So there are people incapable of redemption,” 18 said. Marron returned her attention back to her mother and frowned.

“We do what we have to, even if we don’t want to,” Marron said quietly. “I’m sure you’re familiar with that yourself.”

Although her tone was steady, her mother didn’t seem to have missed the underlying meaning. A small smile touched the corner of her mouth, but the sound of yelling from outside drew their attention away. It sounded like Chi-Chi, and the two exchanged a look.

“I have to go find your father,” 18 said.

Marron nodded. “I’ll go see if Chi-Chi needs any help.”

It didn’t take long to find the source of the arguing. A young boy stood defiantly in front of Chi-Chi, clutching something close to his chest while she practically loomed over him. “Give it up, old lady! I’m not handing it over!” he yelled, twisting away from her when she reached for him again.

“What’s going on?” Marron asked, loud enough to interrupt the voices around them.

“I got a message for someone that ain’t _her_ ,” the boy said.

“This is ridiculous,” Chi-Chi snapped angrily. “I told you already that he’s not here! He’s never been here, but if he _were_ to come here, I’d see him before _you_ would!”

“Then I guess I’m waitin’ till he comes by, ain’t I?” The boy stuck his tongue out and Chi-Chi cheeks turned red with anger. “This letter’s for the faceless man and the faceless man only!”

“She’s right — you’ll be waiting a long time for someone who’s not going to show up,” Marron said calmly. “You might as well just hand it over to her.”

He snorted. “Fat chance I’m fallin’ for that, lady. You think I’m stupid or somethin’? No way I got sent all the way here for no reason.”

Chi-Chi scoffed in exasperation. Marron stepped closer to the boy and bent down slightly so that she was more on his level. “I’m afraid we’re telling you the truth. Perhaps the sender was mistaken? Either way, you’ll be here an awfully long time waiting for no one.”

He glared at her a moment before his eyes suddenly went wide and he pointed at her. “Hey, hang on a sec! You’re that lady from the TV! They...they said you got kidnapped!”

She blinked in surprise, then offered a pleasant smile. There weren’t many people outside of the cities that would recognize her by sight alone. “That’s right, only I wasn’t kidnapped. I escaped, thanks to some friends here. Friends who will make sure you’re well-fed and kept safe for as long as you’re here... if you really are intending to wait.”

“So...you _don’t_ work for Frieza any more?” he asked. There was skepticism there and she couldn’t help the falter in her smile as he clutched his message tighter.

“Sometimes, when we’re very scared and trying to protect people we love, we do things we’d rather not, don’t we?” she said. “Like sing songs, or deliver messages in the middle of a war.” He seemed thoughtful and she saw her opportunity. “Where did you come from?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you,” he said, stubbornly.

“It’s West City, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, putting her hand up to shield her mouth from everyone but him. He jumped and sputtered slightly, but she smiled again. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. I recognized your accent. That’s quite the trip you made. Does your family know you’re here?”

“Th-They know,” he admitted. “Some guy showed up and paid my ma to get this delivered. I’m the oldest so it was my job to make sure it got done.”

“Well, that’s very brave of you,” she said. “As we said, it’ll be a long time before you get to finish your job. In the meantime, I can show you where you’ll be staying until then.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere!” he said, puffing his chest up and standing straight. “I’m stayin’ _right here_ ‘til he shows up!”

Marron nodded and straightened herself. “Hm, well...I suppose if that’s what you really want to do, then we can’t stop you. Maybe we can contact him after all and see if he would be willing to come and see you himself. Would you like a chair while you wait?”

He hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take a stupid chair, I guess.”

She walked to the little cafe across the street, with Chi-Chi hot on her heels. “Are we really going to let him get away with this?” she whispered. “This is obviously some kind of trap. Someone’s trying to bait him out! You _know_ Gohan’s not going to fall for this.”

“It’s only a story,” Marron said. “Gohan will be back in a few days anyway, and he can decide whether or not to take the chance. Either way, I’m sure he’ll lose patience and give us the letter anyway. Don’t worry so much.” She returned to the boy with the chair. He took it from her carefully, as though afraid it would bite him, and she brought her hands together in front of her. “Please let us know if you get hungry. I’m sure Chi-Chi could be persuaded to share some of her delicious curry.”

Chi-Chi folded her arms and glared at the boy, who met her glare with one of his own. With that, Marron left him there to send a quick message to Elo before she headed to the orphanage to begin her work. It would take a few hours to put everything together, but the longer the better anyway. Her mother and father seemed to have busied themselves with preparing a training area after all, which made it easier for her to make the proper arrangements even between all the chaos.

The throngs of people entering the city died down as the day wore on, but she found herself busy with preparing new living arrangements and assisting Mai with sectioning off uninhabited parts of the city for development. It would take a few weeks, maybe even months, before anyone would truly be comfortable, but at least they had space.

By the time the sun began to fall behind the mountains, she returned to find the boy impatiently playing with a stick and a few rocks next to the chair she’d given him. A few people stood nearby, with Mai being one of them. The boy remained steadfast in his refusal to accept any food from anyone until his stomach rumbled so loud that he was no longer able to deny his hunger. He scarfed down the food Chi-Chi brought him, though she didn’t miss her opportunity to remind him he was wasting his time. Still, he refused to give her the message.

Long after night had settled and most everyone had gone back to their rooms, Marron waited by her door for the knock. When it came, she stepped out to meet Elo, who had on the clothes she requested he wear. The tight black fabric clung to his body like a vice, and he frowned down at the mask in his hand. It had been made remarkably quick, especially given what few resources they had, but it was convincing enough.

“Really think this’ll work?” he said, uncertainty clear in his voice. “Kid seems pretty cautious.”

“If he knows who the faceless man is, he’ll be too afraid of you to argue,” she said. Elo nodded reluctantly and the pair made their way back out to the streets. Marron trailed behind, careful to keep out of sight but making sure she kept an eye on the boy as he slept in the chair. She glanced up to see Mai patrolling the walkway above, and waited until she had disappeared in the night to make her signal. A few moments later and Elo arrived, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Gohan’s frame with the mask on. Marron felt her throat tighten at the sight, but she refused to look away.

“What’s...” the boy mumbled as he stirred awake. He jumped when he realized someone was standing before him, and Marron pitied the way he shrank when he looked up. “I...I...um...y-you’re..?”

As instructed, Elo said nothing. He merely stood there in silence while the boy trembled in place. Finally, he reached into his pocket and held out the envelope with shaky hands, bowing his head low as he did. Marron watched Elo take the envelope and abruptly disappear, and the moment he did the boy dropped to his knees. She recognized the terror and pitied him for it, but there wasn’t much time for that. Mai was quick to the boy’s side, anyway.

For her part, Marron hurried back to her home and slid inside, just in time for Elo to enter from the back door. He took the mask off quickly and tossed it to the ground in disgust, then held the envelope out for her to take.

“Let’s find out who wants to talk to the faceless man so bad,” he said.

She took it from him and stared down at it for a moment before she looked at Elo with a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Huh? Are you serious?” Elo said. “But I—”

“I’m sorry, Elo,” she interrupted. “If this letter is really for the faceless man, then I need to read it. Alone.”

He remained where he was long enough that she could see his displeasure, but eventually, he relented and made for the door in silence. She waited until he’d gone to look down at the envelope again. Part of her wondered if she should have had her mother there. Maybe her father. Or maybe, another part of her argued, she should have waited to give it to Gohan himself. It was his, after all. A young boy risked his life to bring it here, and she’d tricked him into handing it over to her.

Instead, she tore the envelope open and unfolded the paper from within, her eyes scanning over the page once, then twice to be sure. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the words written on that page were true. She’d seen the proof herself, once by accident and another time as a reminder of how good she had it compared to him. And not for the first time did she find herself disturbed by her own thoughts.

 _Frieza taught you well._ It was true, she knew. If she learned anything in particular, it was the power in information. Power like that usually came with control. And control could be used for a great many things. In her hands sat power like she’d never felt before, something that could undeniably change the landscape of the entire war. Whoever wrote this letter did so with the intention of having Gohan be the catalyst for that change.

And yet… Marron looked down and read the letter a third time. She had seen him fail before, had watched him falter in the face of a choice much clearer than this one. He was not strong enough to see this through, just as he wasn’t strong enough to save his own family.

With her mind made up, Marron crossed the room to the kitchen and fished out a pack of matches. She stared at the flame as it burned through the letter and the envelope in her sink, her eyes mesmerized by the way the paper curled and twisted until it was unrecognizable anymore. Guilt tried to creep its way into her mind, but she pushed back against it ferociously.

After everything she’d sacrificed to keep her parents safe, to keep Bulla from enduring any more hell than she had to, Marron couldn’t — _wouldn’t_ — risk undoing all of her hard work on faith that he wouldn’t falter again. Even if it meant leaving Piccolo to a fate worse than death.

 _It’s nothing personal,_ she told herself. _It’s just the way things have to be._


	10. Vegeta

“Forty dead, sixty injured, some dozen captured.”

“And?”

“None of them are him, Your Highness.”

Vegeta clenched his jaw tightly and turned back to the mess of bodies in the ruined field. They were a few miles out from North City on day three of this pointless back and forth with Chigo’s men. The coward had been sending small groups of soldiers at a time, and not a single one of them had proven any stronger than the last. In fact, Vegeta swore they were getting weaker. Whatever game Chigo was playing at, he was doing an excellent job of irritating him.

“Your Highness?” The Saiyan speaking to him watched him with a curious unease, as if afraid that he’d be the next target for the prince’s anger.

“You know the drill,” Vegeta snapped. “Round them up, get rid of the survivors this time.”

A pause, then the Saiyan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Get rid of?”

“You heard me.”

He’d been too merciful for too long. The soldiers they’d captured up to that point provided no information, no hint as to where Chigo even was, and most of them wound up killing themselves. There was no longer any point to pretending one of them would magically shift allegiances long enough to be worthwhile. The Saiyan bowed low and left quickly while Vegeta shifted his attention from the field back toward the city.

Where Central City had its slaves and soldiers, North City was _the_ slave hub; hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children worked tirelessly day in and day out. The lucky ones had the fields, where they were able to get outside and see the daylight once in a while, and the not so lucky ones worked in the factories. When they first arrived, the city was covered with a thick smog; since their arrival, however, factory work slowed to a halt among all the fighting, allowing the air to clear enough that they could clearly see the streets below. Most people stayed inside, but some were brave enough to wander out and look up at the sky to observe the Saiyans flying overhead. He caught sight of Bardock off in the distance, presumably issuing new orders to a small group of Saiyans while they awaited Chigo’s next move.

Bardock and his team had arrived weeks prior and had done the bulk of the work clearing out the Forces that had occupied the city. Vegeta took note of how quickly and efficiently his men worked, and how Bardock’s leadership seemed to spill over to other teams as well. Despite being a low-class warrior, he commanded more respect than one might’ve expected. And for Vegeta, the novelty of Bardock’s incredible resemblance to Kakarot had worn off by now. Their personalities were completely different from one another, enough that if it weren’t for their physical similarities he might have questioned whether or not they were related at all. Still, he found himself more inclined to hear what Bardock had to say over what any of the others did, which quickly turned into an informal promotion. 

As if he could sense that Vegeta was watching him, Bardock glanced in his direction and headed toward him. Vegeta met him halfway, his arms folding over his chest as Bardock looked behind the prince’s shoulder at the devastation. He whistled low.

“You’d think they’d give up by now,” he said. “Not sure what he’s trying to prove by throwing his own men’s lives away.”

“I’m getting tired of it,” Vegeta said, frustrated. “They can’t possibly think they can breach our defenses, no matter how many men they send.” Bardock gave a thoughtful hum but said nothing. “They’ve lost the city, thousands of men, and they just keep sending _more._ What are they playing at? This has just turned into a waste of time.”

While he remained fixed on the question, Bardock shifted slightly. “Wasting our time might be the point.” Vegeta looked Bardock’s way in time to see him close his eyes. “Sorry. Spoke out of turn.”

“Go on,” Vegeta said. In truth, Bardock had spoken out of turn enough times that it’d become part of why Vegeta gave even half a shit about hearing him out.

Bardock nodded stiffly and opened his eyes, turning to point at the city itself. “It’s like you said — they lost the city and I think they’re smart enough to know that. But they’re also not trying to take it back at this point so much as they’re just trying to keep us busy.” He paused and shrugged. “Can’t figure out why though.”

It made some sense, but Vegeta was having a hard time seeing the reason for it; on paper, they should’ve been trying harder to take North City back. It was home to dozens of factories that supplied West City with its frivolous distractions and toys. Not to mention, the fields it was surrounded by were flush with crops and livestock. Now that the Saiyans had it, West City was completely cut off from that source. A source that would eventually see Frieza’s empire crumble from the ground up. Starving citizens often made for an emperor’s worst enemy.

“Your Highness! Sir!” They both turned to see a Saiyan woman flying toward them, wearing armor that suggested she was one of the lower-ranked soldiers. She appeared shaken by something. “Come quickly!”

“What’s wrong?” Bardock asked.

“I-It’s the civilians! The humans — they’re dying!”

“What? How?” Vegeta asked, but she shook her head, completely at a loss. The three hurried toward the city and were joined by more than a few dozen Saiyans as they hovered overhead. Down below, bodies lay motionless all over the streets. Some were still coughing and sputtering, struggling to remain upright as they clawed at their own throats.

Bardock retrieved something from one of his pockets and put it on — a breathing mask unfolded itself over his nose and mouth and he dropped to the ground, followed by several others with the same masks. While they began bringing what humans they could find that were still conscious out of the city, Vegeta strained his vision to find the source of whatever the hell was going on. There was a small amount of smog still in the air, but...it didn’t appear any different than it had before. 

The sound of a beeping scouter drew his attention away. The Saiyan next to him looked his way and pressed a button on his scouter, allowing him to hear the incoming message.

_“Forces soldiers are retreating. I repeat, Forces soldiers are retreating.”_

Retreating? _Now?_ Vegeta turned back toward the field in time to see the soldiers disappearing into the distance and cursed under his breath. “What the hell is going on?” he said, mostly to himself. Several scouts gave chase while he returned his attention to the people below. “Come on!” Vegeta snapped at the Saiyans around him, then held his breath as he rushed to the ground to grab whoever he could.

An hour later and nothing made any more sense than it did before. Vegeta had sent the remaining Saiyans into the city to search for more survivors but every single one came back empty-handed. As for the ones Bardock and his team found, none of the humans survived long enough to tell them anything. Vegeta walked down the hallway of the main ship they brought and turned into the infirmary in time to find Bardock watching the doctors seal up the last of the bodies.

“They didn’t find anything from the autopsies,” Bardock said before Vegeta could ask. His eyes followed after one of the Saiyans as they carried out a small body bag and his features darkened considerably. “Doesn’t make a lick of goddamn sense. Why kill so many innocent people? What was it all _for?_ ”

Vegeta didn’t answer right away. He stepped over to one of the bodies and looked down at it — a young woman somewhere in her late-twenties maybe. She looked somewhere between Bulla and Trunks in terms of age, with soft features and vivid red hair. If it weren’t for how pale she was, she could’ve been mistaken for simply sleeping. Thinking about his children inevitably led him to Frieza, and he tightened his jaw in anger while memories of his own youth came back to him. The answer was so obvious, and he’d been an idiot not to see it before.

“Distracted,” he finally said.

Bardock looked at him in surprise. “Prince Vegeta?” 

“You were right,” Vegeta said. “They were going to lose North City anyway, so they made sure we wouldn’t have it either. Frieza has always been a sore loser. It seems Chigo is as well.”

Silence settled between them for a while then. Vegeta found himself thinking back on the last few days leading up to now, wondering when and where exactly he’d failed to see this coming. He of all people _should’ve_ predicted something like this. Frieza wouldn’t have been so subtle about it — invisible weapons were not extravagant enough for that arrogant bastard. But Chigo clearly wasn’t as averse to it, and he’d obviously found a way to get around their men to make it happen.

 _Or it was one of our own,_ he thought. He hadn’t forgotten about Gohan’s warning and grimaced at the thought. A few months ago he might have found it easier to dismiss these Saiyans as having nothing to do with him, to treat them as he treated the Saiyans from Universe 6. But it was impossible to maintain that indifference for long, given just how closely tied he’d found himself to them.

Not all of them, of course. The king and his stooges tended to grate on his nerves frequently enough to remain on his shitlist. And the further they sank their claws into his daughter, the more annoyed he became.

By the end of the day, they’d managed to burn most of the bodies. Bardock’s men came without any solid proof of anything, though everyone had pretty much concluded that it must have been some kind of poison gas. Vegeta was largely useless in these areas. In fact, he found himself growing more impatient by the second. Whatever pretenses he had about taking the fight to Chigo directly had been dropped, but that didn’t mean anything when no one knew where the commander even was.

“Got word from South City, too. Still no sign of Kakarot’s other boy,” Bardock said. “But they’ve been reporting Forces activity near the area.”

Vegeta nodded. “Make sure they’re kept at bay. Send more men if you need to.”

“I’ll send Turrip and Zorn when they get back.” Bardock made for the door but quickly stepped back when it abruptly opened. Tollash looked at him with a curious and hard gaze, then shifted her focus to Vegeta. Bardock stood aside and waited until she’d entered to take his leave. Tollash spoke only after the door had shut.

“Your Highness. The king sent me to assist you, but I see I was a bit late,” she said. 

“You could say that,” Vegeta said. “What else does the king want?”

“Only to praise you for your diligence in keeping those rats away from our conquests,” she said. “His grace commanded us to leave a small number of our men here to maintain the city.”

He scoffed. “Clearly things have changed. We’re going back to Central City first thing in the morning.”

“The king gave his command an hour ago,” she said. She stepped forward and held out her scouter to him. “He is aware of the situation at hand and would like us to begin preparations regardless.”

Vegeta glared but waved his hand dismissively and she withdrew the scouter. Tollash was both a capable warrior and a seasoned politician. She’d been at the king’s side longer than nearly everyone else had, and so naturally Vegeta trusted her the least of all the stooges. He had no doubt she was telling the truth if only to spare herself from displeasing the king she was so blindly devoted to.

“Fine, whatever. If the king commands it, then we don’t have any other _choice_ , do we?” he said. It would’ve been easy to just ignore the command and do whatever he wanted...but then, once again, he had a family to think about.

“The king has ordered Bardock and his team to South City, and Nappa and Beetri are to patrol the West City outskirts,” she said.

“Bardock is already sending Zorn and Turrip to South City. There’s no point sending more than necessary,” he said.

“I’ll inform him of the change in plans. Zorn and Turrip will remain here to keep order,” Tollash said. Sending Bardock to South City was likely yet another thinly veiled attempt to force Gohan out of hiding and possibly coerce Chi-Chi into coming to the Saiyan ship. Vegeta doubted either of them to be stupid enough to fall for it. “You and I have been assigned to the East Ravine.”

“What for?” Vegeta knew the answer already.

“We’ve received word that Kakarot’s son has been spotted there a number of times,” she said. “If our intel is correct, then we may have caught a pattern in his movements. He seems inclined to protect those little villages and seeing as how both Forces and our own men have a tendency to go missing in those areas, we believe it’s only a matter of time before we find him.”

“We’re in the middle of a war and the king is still going to waste our time,” Vegeta said bitterly. “While Chigo is out there making fools of us, we’re going to chase rumors.”

“If the king has ordered it, it’s hardly a waste of time.” Tollash bowed her head slightly and brought a hand up to her scouter. “Though if the prince commands it, I will inform the king of your displeasure.”

Was she toying with him? Vegeta eyed her for a moment, watched how her finger hovered unwaveringly over the button of her scouter. It was as if she was baiting him into it like she wanted him to defy the king, the same way Cui used to when they were under Frieza’s boot. He scoffed and crossed his arms. He’d have to keep playing this stupid, pointless game for a little longer.

“No,” he said at last.

She bowed and dropped her hand back to her side. “Then I will begin preparations at once, my prince.”

Vegeta watched her go and scowled to himself. He’d hoped the king had forgotten about Gohan by now or at least realized he wasn’t going to find him any time soon. He glanced over at the window of the ship and stared at the tall, empty buildings of North City. Years ago, Bulma had insisted on dragging him there for a shopping trip. It was a loud, obnoxious city full of people and bright colors. At the time, he’d idly fantasized about knocking a building or two over just to shut everyone up. Now, however, he found that he might have preferred the noise over the silent grave it’d become.

It didn’t take too terribly long to redirect all the Saiyans. For his part, he waited impatiently for Tollash to join him as he hovered over the ship, staring down at it and watching the Saiyans in their preparations. At the very least, he appreciated how fast they worked to organize themselves and follow orders down to the letter.

Tollash joined him only a few moments later and gave a curt nod when she did. “Apologies for the delay, Your Highness.”

“What kept you?” he asked.

“Some took issue with their placements. It seems they’ve grown accustomed to your method of leadership,” she said. There was a hint of irritation in her voice, though she did her best to mask it. “You should take care in who you grant liberties to, especially those within the lower classes. They might think themselves above their station if you don’t.”

 _Bardock._ It didn’t surprise him to imagine that he might’ve been unhappy with his new assignment. Vegeta suspected he was very much aware of the true purpose behind his being sent to South City. “Hmph. Do you make it a habit to question those above _your_ station, Tollash?”

She bowed her head but didn’t seem fazed by his question. “Forgive me. The king entrusted me to assist you and offer counsel when needed.”

“It wasn’t needed,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go before I decide I don’t need you either.”

Both of them knew it was a hollow threat. Vegeta knew the king sent her for a reason, and he’d have to be careful with what he said and did as they searched for Gohan. One mistake could mean a number of things — not just for him, but for his family — and he wasn’t too keen on risking them any more than necessary.

The route from North City to the east was a relatively easy one; it didn’t escape Vegeta how many abandoned or destroyed villages they passed along their way, though he maintained indifference. The mountains were dotted with signs of battle, some of which had no doubt been scarred by Saiyans as well. As they traveled further east, fewer instances of recent destruction were found. It seemed as though Chigo hadn’t pressed very far into the area yet, at least not beyond the few patrols and scouts they knew about.

“Wait — here, my prince.” Tollash came to a halt and pointed down below. Vegeta glanced down and shook his head.

“A village with barely thirty people,” he said. “None of them are Gohan.”

“No, but our intel suggests this was the village our scouts went missing from,” she said. Before he could answer, she dropped down below, landing in the middle of the village to the surprise of the people there. Vegeta followed suit and crossed his arms, his eyes sweeping over frightened faces.

“This is pointless,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice.

“Is it?” she asked. Tollash took a few steps forward and stopped in front of an elderly woman holding a basket full of rice. “You there. Tell us about this _spirit_ your people claimed to have.”

 _Spirit?_ Vegeta’s eyes narrowed as he watched Tollash advance on the woman, who trembled under her gaze. “Th-The spirit? Ah, yes...the children...they thought they saw a spirit...”

“When?” Tollash asked.

“Weeks...ah, no, months ago.” The old woman shook her head. “B-But it’s only a story. Children are, ah...they are very imaginative.”

“I see,” Tollash said. She glanced back at Vegeta. “What do you make of that, my prince?”

“Hmph. What is there to make? You heard the woman. It’s just a story they made up to make themselves feel better,” he said. 

Tollash returned her attention to the old woman. “Did you see this spirit yourself?”

“N-No,” the old woman said. “As I said, the children...they tell their stories.”

“Tollash,” Vegeta warned. She ignored him.

“Which children?”

“ _Tollash._ ” He stepped forward, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Just as he opened his mouth to warn her again, a small voice piped up.

“It was me!” A boy stepped forward, a mess of blond hair and tanned skin. He looked between Tollash and Vegeta with fearful eyes, but he swallowed hard and moved so that he stood in front of the old woman. “Milleke didn’t see the spirit, but I did! H-He saved my cousin and me, and he keeps us safe!” Vegeta cursed under his breath. 

“ _He?_ ” Tollash said. “What did this spirit look like, exactly?”

“He...he was tall,” the boy said. Tollash rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip. “He was really pale, too! A-And he had black hair. He also—”

“Bet!” A girl pushed through the small crowd that had gathered and hurried to grab him by the arm. “Bet, what are you doing?”

“Th-They’re Saiyans, Sala,” he whispered. She turned to look at them, her eyes wide with fear. Still, she pulled Bet away.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” she said. “Some Forces soldiers passed through here a while ago, but we don’t know where they went.”

Tollash scowled at the girl and crossed her arms. “Forces soldiers passed through, you say?”

“That’s right. They came and they went, that’s all! We made up a story about a spirit protecting us so they’d leave us alone,” the girl — Sala — insisted.

“I told you this was a waste of time,” Vegeta said. “Now let’s leave them be. They’re nothing to us.”

“Forces soldiers happened to pass through and not destroy this village. I would suggest we investigate further, Your Highness,” Tollash said.

“And I would suggest you not question my orders,” he said. “We’re leaving. Now.”

The Saiyan woman turned to face Vegeta, her harsh gaze trained on him. For a moment, neither said anything. Vegeta remained where he was, met her glare with one of his own until she broke away and bowed her head low. “As you command, Your Highness.”

Vegeta went to the sky first while Tollash took one last glance back at the villagers before joining him. As the village got further behind them, Vegeta could sense the anger practically radiating off of her. Finally, after stewing for what seemed like several minutes, she spoke up again.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, but you cannot claim you believed a word of what those villagers were saying,” she said. “The boy seemed to know more. We should go back and retrieve him, and force him to tell us everything he knows about this so-called spirit.”

“Scared children will say whatever they think we want to hear,” Vegeta said. “I have no interest in frightening children and harassing old women.”

“Did you not see the fields as we approached? Our scouts' reports are consistent with everything we’ve seen so far,” she pressed. “Every other village we’ve found has been destroyed — _except_ for the ones in this area. Yet we’re to believe it’s merely a coincidence? Forgive me, Your Highness, but I do not think it’s wise for us to ignore the signs.”

“Even if it was Gohan doing those things, you heard what they said. It was months ago. He’s clearly not there anymore, so we’d only be wasting our time.”

Tollash came to a halt and Vegeta stopped as well. “Which is why we must draw him out,” she said. “If what our scouts say is correct, then it won’t be very difficult.”

 _Damn it, Gohan,_ Vegeta thought. _All you had to do was lie low and not do anything stupid, you idiot._ He could have tried to say no again, but Vegeta’s options were too limited now and he knew it. Tollash wasn’t going to give this up so easily, no matter what he said, and the fact remained that he had to maintain at least some semblance of loyalty to the king until Bulma came back with the others. “What’s your plan?”

“Allow me to show you,” she said. Before he could stop her, she turned back and headed toward the village once more. Vegeta caught up with her easily, and the pair stopped as they hovered above the village once more. The sun was beginning to set, but even in the twilight he could see the villagers nervously looking up at them once more. He did not meet anyone’s gaze. Tollash raised one of her hands and began gathering energy, a smirk spreading itself across her mouth. “Perhaps the _spirit_ will make itself known if we coax it out.”

“Wait,” he said abruptly. She paused to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “I’ll do it.”

A look of surprise crossed her face, but her smirk widened and she lowered her hand again so she could bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Many years ago, Vegeta wouldn’t have thought twice about destroying such an insignificant little place. He would have delighted in it, in fact. But now, he found nothing enjoyable about any of it. Blast after blast was followed by screams of terror, which no longer served to entertain him. It was all Vegeta could do to control the blasts and focus only on what few capsule buildings and stalls there were. By the end of it, not a single human lay dead, most of them had scattered across the fields and into the woods to the north. He doubted that fact escaped the Saiyan woman, though she said nothing of it.

Just then, Vegeta caught sight of the two children from earlier as they hurried across the paddy field. Tollash noticed them too and moved to chase after them, but Vegeta was quick to stop her. “Don’t bother. The more people out there to talk about what happened, the more likely he is to show his face.”

“Very well,” she said. “What now, Your Highness?”

Vegeta considered her question a moment. The village was empty now, save for a few wandering chickens pecking at the fallen rice. “Now, we send a message.”

With that, he turned south and sent another blast into the nearby mountains, leveling the top of it easily. A fire broke out among the trees as burning debris landed in the thick forest, and soon enough a thick cloud of smoke rose into the sky, curling up toward the moon.

“It won’t be long,” Tollash said. She almost sounded excited. “Soon enough, we’ll find him and bring him back to the king.”

Vegeta could only hum his agreement. In the distance, the cries of villagers turned faint, until it was no louder than the breeze.


	11. Gohan

“Attacked?” he repeated. The breeze from the window was cooler than he’d expected, but he remained where he was. It was easier to watch the people outside while they carried building supplies down the streets, boots crunching over red and orange leaves as they went.

“Yeah. Crazy, right? Who’d try to attack the Saiyans on their own ship?” Krillin said. 

_Who indeed?_ Gohan frowned lightly to himself. It was well into the afternoon, judging by the sun. The days were getting chillier by the hour with winter fast approaching, but for now autumn was still very much in full swing. Everyone was working quickly to finish building the new houses for the influx of refugees they were getting, seeing as how they’d run out of capsules weeks ago. He couldn’t say he was surprised, though he had hoped to avoid it for a little while longer. More people brought more attention, and—

“Gohan? You hear me, bud?”

He blinked and looked back at Krillin, then offered as normal a smile as he could muster. “Sorry. You said they _weren’t_ targeting the king?”

Krillin nodded. “Right. At least, that’s what Marron heard. Apparently they were going after Bulla, but she has no idea why.”

Neither did Gohan. It didn’t make sense to him, not with everything he knew about Frieza’s plans for the Saiyans, and Bulla rarely factored into anything that didn’t involve torturing Vegeta. Her inevitable death was meant to be a special occasion, not a sloppy assassination attempt while her father was nowhere around. Killing her now wouldn’t accomplish what Frieza had in mind for Vegeta or his family.

He took in a breath and pushed himself away from the window, back toward the kitchen to pour himself another cup of tea. The house they were in wasn’t especially warm, and he’d noticed the way Krillin was shivering when he first arrived. As he returned to the table, he brought the kettle with him and offered it out to his friend.

“Thanks. So, you mentioned a rift?” Krillin said, pouring himself some tea as well.

“That’s right. Up north, near Bells Village.”

It seemed to have piqued Krillin’s interest, and the man shifted in his seat to lean forward. “What happened with that?”

“Well... it’s hard to explain,” Gohan said. “I...I thought it was Dad at first. When I got there, it was just another creature from the rift. Dad’s energy was still there... but,” he trailed off and frowned down at his cup, unsure of how to make sense of what he was trying to say. That creature had been so familiar — it even seemed to know him.

“But what?”

Gohan realized he’d fallen silent. “The creature there acted like it knew me.”

“Uh, knew you or, er, _knew_ you?” Krillin shifted uncomfortably as he asked. 

“It called me by my name,” he said. “It said I’d killed it before.”

“Hmm... doesn’t really narrow it down, huh?” Krillin said, thoughtfully. “What’d it look like?”

He had to think about that. It was difficult to recall, between his hazy memory and everything that had happened immediately after. “It was...green, I think. Tall. It had a pointy head and wings that—”

“Wait! Are you talking about _Cell?!_ ” Krillin interrupted. The name sounded familiar, and Gohan trusted that by Krillin’s reaction it was probably the most likely answer. So, he nodded. “Oh, man. A-And you killed him, right?”

He thought back to the way the creature had practically evaporated in his blast. “Yeah. He’s pretty dead.”

Krillin relaxed considerably. “ _Good._ The last thing anyone needs right now is for him to show up.”

“That bad, huh?” Gohan asked.

“Man, Frieza really did a number on your head to make you forget all about that,” Krillin said. “At the time it felt like the end of the world, for real. The androids, your dad, and Cell...not knowing if that was it, or even if we’d live to see the next day. Still… you know, even remembering how bad things were then… I’d almost rather do it all over again.” He paused a moment and then let out an angry, frustrated sigh. “But we can’t think like that, huh? We just gotta keep on going with what we’ve got.”

Gohan wasn’t entirely sure he agreed or disagreed. So many chunks of his memory were gone — either buried somewhere deep in his psyche or simply erased altogether was something he couldn’t be sure of. He still offered his friend another smile to put him at ease. Smiling seemed to be the easiest response, and it often worked. Krillin smiled back and finished off his tea.

“I better get going,” he said, sliding off his chair. Gohan stood and followed him to the door. “Oh, before I forget! Mai mentioned something about a kid having a letter for you.”

“For me?” Gohan asked.

Krillin shrugged, seemingly at a loss. “Yep. She was worried it was some kind of trap, but she hasn’t seen him around in a couple of days so we figured we should warn you in case he comes back. He was pretty adamant about needing to see _you_ in particular. Even your mom couldn’t scare him into handing it over.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Gohan said. It didn’t worry him too much, although he’d be lying by trying to pretend he wasn’t curious about the message if it existed at all. “Know anything about it?”

“Nope, sorry. Your mom might know more.”

“Right. I’ll ask her then,” Gohan said. Krillin said his farewells and left. Once he was gone, Gohan found himself with too much on his mind. Between the rifts, the war, the refugees, and the situation with the Saiyans, he had to get creative to keep himself busy. He set to work fixing up his mother’s capsule home while she was gone, it was the least he could do. He repaired the holes in her walls, the leaks in the pipes, took care of her ceiling, and managed to sweep and mop every single floor yet _still_ it wasn’t enough to keep him busy. His mind kept going back to the same questions with no answers. That rift… the whispers that came with it. They were saying something, something he couldn’t really make out, and trying to remember what it was seemed impossible.

 _Dad was there,_ he thought as he brushed the dust off the top of her television. _I’m sure he was. But how? Was he the one trying to talk to me?_ It made no more sense to him than anything else at the moment. _If he was trying to tell me something, it must’ve been important._ Much as he didn’t like the idea, it occurred to him he might have to make another trip to those rifts. Right then, in the middle of his thought, he heard the door open but didn’t bother looking up. He knew who it was even before she let out a surprised gasp.

“Oh, Gohan!” his mother said. “I had no idea you were here!”

He prepared a smile for when he turned to face her. “Sorry about that. I meant to tell you sooner, but I got a little sidetracked with Krillin.”

Whatever answer he gave her, he was pretty sure she would’ve been satisfied. It was exhausting having to deal with everyone else every time he came back to South City but seeing his mother more than made up for it. For all his scrambled memories, for all the things he couldn’t recall, there was no denying the effect her presence had on him. Like he was a kid again, and being around her meant he was just a little safer than before.

“Well, it’s a good thing you came when you did,” she said. “I just got new bags of rice and some fresh eggs too.” She bent to pick up the large sacks she’d set down to open the door, and Gohan quickly crossed the room to take them from her. By the way she reacted, he’d have thought no one had done anything like that for her in a century. “After all this time and you still remember your manners!”

“You taught me well,” he said.

“I’ll say! Is that a new shirt, too?”

He glanced down at his shirt and smiled slightly at the symbol that the girl had sewn onto it, then shook his head. “No, same shirt. Just a long story.”

As he began putting the contents of the bags away for her, she set about the cooking. Within only a few minutes she was already hard at work making rice, noodles, and eggs. He put himself to work as well, despite her protests. The least he could do was handle grilling the beef and preparing the sauce. She wouldn’t admit it, but he could tell some part of her appreciated having less to worry about after spending an entire day cooking for refugees and orphans.

They sat at the table to eat. Quiet at first, as if neither knew what to say, but his mother didn’t take too long to find a topic of discussion. It seemed she was in the same boat as Krillin and 18 as far as their worries for the city’s sudden growth went. 

“There are just too many mouths to feed and not enough food to go around,” she said. “What we should be doing is thinking about growing our vegetables in the city rather than sending so many people out there every day. But Mai says there’s at least a few hundred coming from villages along the coast, and she’s pretty sure they won’t be the only ones either. Sooner or later we’ll run out of room _and_ food.”

He didn’t disagree. “They probably figure this is the safest place for them.”

“I’m sure they do, but what’s going to happen when Frieza’s Forces realize how many people are coming here? And what if one of those people turns out to be just as valuable as Marron and Bulla?” Chi-Chi sighed. He saw the worry in the lines around her eyes and mouth, and the way her brow wrinkled in frustration. “We barely managed before, when it was a smaller group. If it wasn’t for Goten, I don’t think we would’ve made it.”

Gohan nodded his agreement. From what he’d heard, it had been a fairly close fight. Almone’s fixation on finding Bulla and Marron wound up blowing up in her face spectacularly enough to collapse half of her men from the inside out. Right now, they weren’t very far from the building where prisoners from that fight were still being held. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said. “One problem at a time.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sure Goten will be back before that happens anyway.” She paused and he shifted his gaze down to the tea in front of him. “I just hope he’s alright. Those Saiyan jerks...who do they think they are anyway?”

 _They probably think they have a claim on this planet_ , he thought. “Better we just keep out of it as much as we can,” he said instead.

“Hmph. If they think they can just stroll in and steal _both_ of my children, they’ve got another thing coming.” She finished eating and set her bowl aside, then moved to grab him a few more servings before he even had to ask. “They better be treating Goten like royalty too. I mean, he went with Vegeta, right? He’ll make sure they’re being good to him. Especially since...” She trailed off and bit down on her lip, then shook her head with a weary sigh.

“I’m sure Vegeta’s doing what he can,” he offered. But talking about Goten struck a nerve for him that he couldn’t ignore. It didn’t escape him that his mother still hadn’t heard about the rift, and there was no getting away from the guilt he felt at keeping it from her. _Telling her won’t solve anything,_ he reminded himself. Letting her think the Saiyans were preventing him from contacting them was far better than telling her that both her husband and her son were trapped in some physics-defying black hole.

Still, it wasn’t like he enjoyed lying to his mother, even if it was for the best of intentions. He stood and gathered their empty dishes to the sink, and began scrubbing each one clean.

“How long are you staying?” she asked after the silence had gone on too long. He paused long enough to look over his shoulder at her. His mother was never shy about letting her emotions print themselves into her features, and he could read the apprehension on her face now. It only added to his guilty conscience.

“A few days,” he said at last, turning back to look at the soapy water. “Maybe more. I can’t stay too long, though.” His answer seemed to make her happy enough. “Krillin mentioned someone had a message for me. Any idea what it was about?”

She gave an indignant, irritated scoff. “Beats me! That boy was so rude, he didn’t even bother sticking around like he said he would.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, draining the water from the sink once he was done with the washing up.

“He up and disappeared the very next day! Mai says she found him practically crying in the middle of the street and then he just up and took off without a word.”

Gohan frowned. “You said it was a boy...what was his name?”

“I don’t know. He just kept saying he had a message for you and only you. He wouldn’t even talk to anyone until Marron practically forced him to!”

 _Marron._ Everything began to add up little by little, but not enough to give him the whole picture. If Marron was involved, then he imagined she likely got her hands on that message. _Of course she did,_ he thought. _She’ll probably try to use it too._

But he didn’t voice his suspicions regarding Marron to his mother. They remained in the kitchen for the remainder of the evening — she talked a little more about her day and he listened. It didn’t surprise him to hear that she’d taken on the job of supervising where the new houses were going to go, and she made mention of wanting to fix up some gardens within the city so no one had to venture outside the walls. It was nearly midnight before she excused herself to bed. Gohan debated doing the same but found he was too restless to do so.

Gohan stepped outside to a city only half-asleep. A surprising number of people were still awake and hard at work, either mending walls or working on those new houses for the refugees they were dealing with. By the looks of things, he had to assume that they were just barely managing to keep up with it all. He made his way further into the less populated areas of town until he found an empty building, then went up to stand on the roof. From where he was, he could get a better look at everything.

The line of people at the main gates was gone by now, replaced by tents and sleeping bags splayed out on the ground. Several patrols wandered both the streets and along the walkways on the walls, though he noticed a few congregated more toward the city center. He vaguely wondered about the apparent messenger that had been looking for him, though he put the thought aside. Somewhere in the distance, he could sense the Saiyans out there still waiting for him. Vegeta assured him they’d be kept away from the city, but he had no doubt they’d eventually break that order the longer they had to wait.

Even so, they still didn’t rank too highly on his list of problems, not with the rifts out there. He closed his eyes and reached further out, beyond the two Saiyans, and he could sense that same dark presence where Frieza and his father had disappeared to. Every time he checked it, it felt as if it was getting stronger and the creeping sense of dread found its way back to him. Frieza was coming back. Gohan had never been so sure of anything in his life, and when that time came, that would be all that mattered.

 _One problem at a time,_ he told himself. He returned to his mother’s house then and forced himself to set his worries aside for the time being. _We’ll cross all those bridges when we get there._

Sleep didn’t come easy, and when it finally did, it came with the same voices and faces that had haunted him for twenty years. Sometimes the faces changed; green-skinned men pleading with him to wake up, only to be consumed by violet lights, then replaced with a woman whose face he could never _quite_ make out. She’d say something, but her words would be drowned out by a cruel, mocking laugh and she’d fade away. But her eyes, her blue eyes, would stay with him long after he woke up.

It was both a blessing and a curse that he rarely managed to sleep through the night. Another moment with those dreams and he was sure to finally snap. Gohan opened his eyes to a dull light just beginning to creep its way through the curtains. His body ached slightly as he pulled himself up and out of bed, but it was never an issue ignoring that ache. It must have been earlier than he thought, his mother was still fast asleep as he stepped out. He set about making his own breakfast of steamed rice, bean paste, and eggs; something quick to make and quicker to eat so he could get to work faster.

He hadn’t _actually_ intended to stay long, but he knew his mother deserved to have at least one of her sons around, even if for only a little while. In any case, there was still plenty for him to do for her anyway to make up for needing to leave again. He considered his options briefly until he recalled what she’d said about gardens. By the time Chi-Chi had woken up and walked outside, Gohan had already sectioned off a small square with a few pieces of wood and managed to find the right tools to work the soil. 

“Oh, my! You’re still here,” she said, surprised. “I thought you...wait, Gohan, what’s all this?”

“A garden, hopefully,” he said. He stepped back to look at it. Not the prettiest thing in the world, but he figured it was at least a start. “I’ll let you decide what you want to be planted here. Soil looks okay enough to grow most things, I bet.”

She stepped closer so she could get a better look, and he glanced at her in time to see just how wide her eyes were. “You did all this for me?”

“Well...yeah,” he said. “It’s not done yet, but it shouldn’t take too...” He trailed off when he saw her eyes welling up with tears, and suddenly he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He stood there awkwardly for a moment while he watched her, at a loss on what to say or even do.

The longer he just stood there, however, the more uncomfortable he felt. His initial thought was to wonder why Goten hadn’t done a better job looking out for her, but then it struck him: it wasn’t about whether or not anyone else had done anything for her. _He_ was her son too, and he’d been gone for years. She thought he was dead, and when he did come back he hadn’t bothered to stay long. He’d been so wrapped up with his own things that it didn’t even occur to him to consider what she’d actually gone through. What she was _going_ through. It wasn’t too hard to imagine how he might feel if he were in her shoes...if somehow, maybe his own child were to...

There was an ache in his chest that wasn’t there before, so he shifted his focus. Gohan pulled his gloves off and moved to put his arm around her. She returned the hug in full, both of her own arms wrapping around his middle as she quietly wept into his shirt. A chill ran down his spine as he stood there taking it all in. It was hard to tell what he felt — there was a whole mix of emotions going through him, so much that it all seemed to settle itself neatly somewhere between his chest and stomach. 

Chi-Chi excused herself not long after and Gohan, looking for something to keep his mind off that feeling, returned to work. He’d have to do a lot more than making her a garden and give her boring conversations, he decided. _Maybe I’ll go fishing,_ he thought idly. _She always liked it when dad fished for her._

Gohan had just started pulling up a new section of soil when he realized someone was approaching him. The man heading in his direction seemed familiar in some way, although honestly, people being both familiar and not was such a regular occurrence these days that Gohan didn’t bother to think about it very hard. He didn’t acknowledge the man until he’d come to a stop nearby and cleared his throat.

“Hello there,” the man said. There was an edge to his voice, barely noticeable but he caught it all the same. “My name’s Elo. Miss Marron sent me.”

“Did she?” Gohan asked, barely glancing up.

“Yes. She’d like to speak with you as soon as possible, so if you please.” Elo held a hand out toward the street behind him, beckoning him to follow. 

_So this is Marron’s gopher,_ he thought. Krillin had mentioned she had a friend helping her with things around town. It made sense that she would — Frieza also hated getting his own hands dirty with the busywork. City kid too, it seemed given the accent and overly formal speech. Either way, he wasn’t sure he was willing to participate in whatever game she was playing with him.

Regardless, Gohan neither moved nor made any indication that he’d intended to do as he was asked, and after an awkward pause, Elo cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but Miss Marron was very clear about needing to speak with you.”

“I’m sure she was,” Gohan said shortly, though not unkindly.

There was a clear shift in the way Elo carried himself, almost as if he was on the defense. Yet Gohan hadn’t done anything, other than continue digging up and turning the soil with the shovel he had. “I’m not sure you understand. Miss Marron would like to see you _now,_ and I’ll be taking you to her.”

“Uh-huh. What about?” Gohan asked. _Hopefully the contents of that letter._

“I’m not at liberty to say.” Gohan couldn’t help but laugh at that and caught the way Elo visibly bristled. “Is something funny?”

“Real secret stuff, huh? Must be important if she’s going this far out of her way,” Gohan said. “I’m sure you’re just doing what she asked you to, but I’m not really interested in these games of hers. You can let her know I’ll be there soon.”

Elo squared his shoulders and puffed up his chest as if it would have any effect on him. “Look, Miss Marron was very clear about what she wanted. I don’t want to have to make you—”

“You know who I am?” Gohan asked, pausing long enough to lean against the shovel and regard Elo carefully. The man only replied with a stiff nod. “Then I don’t mean to be rude, but you should know you won’t be making me do anything.”

That only served to thicken the tension between them, so much that it was almost palpable. From the corner of his eye, Gohan could see the way Elo’s entire body seemed to tense, how his hands balled into fists, and how his gaze hardened. He could also see the hesitation and the struggle as he tried to come up with something to say, his mouth tightening into a frown while Gohan continued his work. 

“You’re... you’re really going to make this difficult?” Elo asked, sounding almost as exasperated as he looked.

 _If Marron wants to play games, then we can play,_ he nearly said. Instead, Gohan shrugged and glanced up at the sky. It wasn’t quite noon yet, but the sun was already high up there. “Either you tell me where she wants to meet or you stand here all day. Up to you, really. I’m not in any kind of rush.”

It didn’t take too long for the man to break, and when he did he did so with a heavy, defeated sigh and a look of frustration clear on his face. “ _Fine._ She wants to meet by the hot springs north of the city.”

At that, Gohan stepped away from the garden and set the shovel aside. Then, with a quick nod to Elo, he hopped into the air and took off. It didn’t take him long to find Marron sitting on a bench near the hot springs just like Elo said. No one was around for at least a half a mile, and Gohan landed some feet behind her, though she barely seemed to notice.

“I wondered if you’d come,” she said mildly as he approached. “I see you left Elo behind.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to play games with me,” he said. “All you have to do is ask me like a normal person instead of sending errand boys to threaten me.”

“I just wanted to see if you’d participate.” She stood and turned to face him. She wore a white dress that came to her knees with a tan shawl hanging off her shoulders. Everything about her had always looked soft, from all he could remember. Marron was the mature, almost motherly alternative to Bulla’s youthful, vulgar and wild one to Frieza’s propaganda machine. But when she looked at him, even with her neutral expression, her eyes were trained on him with the same intensity her mother’s had when she was staring down an enemy. Uncanny, really.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said.

“You didn’t.” She blinked away only for a moment to glance behind him. “Ah, Elo.”

Elo landed some feet behind Gohan and hurried forward. “Marron, I’m sorry. I tried to—”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s alright. Thank you for your help. Mai mentioned that she would need help with some of the more unruly refugees by the city gates. I’m sure she’d appreciate your assistance.”

“But...” Elo started hesitantly.

“Don’t worry. Gohan will look after me. Won’t you, Gohan?”

The abrupt dismissal of her lackey almost made him laugh at how strangely familiar it all seemed, yet the underlying message there was clear. Elo could only nod and do as he was asked, leaving the two of them alone. Unlike their previous meetings, Marron seemed far more relaxed in his presence than before. She returned her attention to Gohan and then motioned for him to follow as she began walking along the pathway. He walked beside her, though she seemed keen to keep a decent amount of space between them.

“It’s been some time since you’ve stayed in the city for more than a day, hasn’t it?” she asked. “I’m sure your mother is happy to see you again.”

“We can skip the small-talk if that’s alright with you,” he said. “Krillin mentioned someone was looking for me.”

“I remember a boy coming here, but we all assured him you weren’t going to be in the city anytime soon,” she said. “Last I heard, Mai said he left in the middle of the night some days ago.”

 _Did he really leave, or did you get what you wanted and send him off?_ Gohan frowned. “My mother said he had a message. Any idea what that was?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said. “It’s as I said: he was gone the same night he showed up.” Reading her expression was nearly impossible, he found. She’d been trained well enough not to show her emotions, hiding whatever she felt behind placid, pretty smiles and friendly eyes. Despite that, there was something else in her eyes. Something that told him there was more to the story than she was letting on. And he certainly didn’t believe for a second that she didn’t know anything more than she was willing to say.

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see if he comes back,” he said. 

That seemed to amuse her, given the small smile that tugged at her mouth. “I guess so. In the meantime, I’ve heard some rumors I’d like to ask you about.”

 _Changing topics already._ At least now he’d find out what she really wanted from him. “I can’t promise I’ll be much help,” he said. “I don’t exactly have my ear to the ground these days.”

She seemed to ignore him. “Even without you, the city is well-defended, between my parents and the resistance Mai has been leading. I’d even go so far as to say we wouldn’t need you at all, should the time come when we need to defend ourselves,” she said. He was careful not to look at her, though he wondered where she was going with this. “But the little villages nearby tend to be less so. They’re rather vulnerable, especially now with the recruiters out and about, wouldn’t you agree?”

Gohan stopped. “You’ve been spying on me.”

“Are you surprised?” she asked as she turned to face him. She almost seemed amused at the thought. “Don’t worry. None of them know who you really are.”

Surprised wasn't the right word. He had to be careful around her either way, though. “Why?”

Marron offered a small smile. “I guess I’m just curious. You avoid the city where the people who still care about you live and spend your time rescuing children instead. Children you might’ve been responsible for killing yourself not that long ago.” He tried to ignore the blatant attempt to under his skin, but couldn’t keep from frowning. “When you told me about the rifts, I thought you would’ve gone after Goten yourself, but you didn’t do that either. So I wanted to find out for myself how you were easing your guilty conscience. Do you find it as rewarding as you thought it’d be?”

“I’m not doing anything for a reward,” he said. She looked at the symbol on his shirt pointedly and he shook his head. “This isn’t about me at all. There are people out there getting hurt the most by this war. They deserve to be protected, same as the people here.”

“More than your brother deserves to be saved?” she asked. The look he shot her in return broke through her confidence just enough so that he saw her hands tighten slightly into her shawl. But she didn’t waver beyond that. Instead, she seemed to gather herself in an instant and offer a rueful smile. “I know. It isn’t fair of me to make that judgment. I’m sure you have your reasons for doing what you do.”

“I told you I’m not playing games,” he said quietly. He recognized what she was doing, knew exactly why she was pressing on those pressure points the way she was. Frieza used to do it too, to test just how deeply buried he was under the fog in his mind. The only question was _why_ she would risk it after everything she knew about him. After how frightened she still was underneath that act she had worked so hard to put on. “Get to the point. Please.”

Finally, she seemed to agree with him. She stepped away from the dirt path and he followed her down a number of ruined steps to a small clearing. A broken concrete fountain sat in the center of it, with murky green water pooled in what remained of its basin. Gohan took in their surroundings — by the looks of it, they were completely alone. But knowing what he knew of her now, he doubted that was really the case. She moved to sit on the edge of the fountain and folded her hands neatly in her lap. He stopped only a few feet away from her and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Years ago, Bulla helped coordinate Yamcha’s escape from one of Frieza’s prisons. That’s how we became involved in the wider resistance movement. While Bulla maintained communication with Yamcha, I got into contact with my father. As it happens, he has been in contact with someone else I believe you’re familiar with.” As she spoke she reached into her shawl and retrieved an envelope from a hidden pocket, then held it out to him. He stepped forward to take it and paused when he felt something slide around inside of it. “Everyone believed they were dead, but…”

Gohan opened the top of the envelope and tilted the contents into the palm of his hand. Even holding them, he was having a difficult time believing what he saw. As far as he knew, the ones buried under the rubble that was once the Son family home were the last of them, and yet there they were. “Senzu beans?”

“Yes. Dad mentioned Goten had used the ones you gave him during the attack on the city,” she said. “And yes. Yajirobe and Korin are alive. They spotted you near the Sacred Lands some time ago and sent this along with a letter for my father.”

If Yajirobe and Korin actually were alive — and really, at this point, Gohan wasn’t sure he could believe much that came out of Marron’s mouth — then he’d have to find a way to get them to safety before anyone else found out. “Then these are for your dad, not me,” he said. “But it seems like you need me to do something.”

A small smile crept across her face. “Two Saiyans were spotted at a village not far from where a _spirit_ supposedly made an appearance. One of them had tall spiky hair, and the other was a woman with a scar on her cheek.”

“Vegeta?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. They didn’t introduce themselves. But if it was him, then you should know he was the one who destroyed the village and set fire to the surrounding forest. And my contact in Central City says four Saiyans were dispatched late last night, heading south. I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to learn they’ve doubled their efforts in finding you, enough that they’re willing to destroy anything that stands in their way.”

Gohan closed his hand into a fist over the beans and offered the envelope back out to her, which she took and returned to her pocket. He half-wondered if Krillin would ever see the letter for himself. “So, you want me to draw them away.”

“On the contrary, I want you to go to them,” she said. At his surprise, she continued with a small laugh. “Is that so hard to believe? They obviously won’t stop until they have you. So, it got me thinking about all of the options available to us currently and the answer became clear to me.”

His gaze hardened slightly. “What makes you think I’m going to agree to that?”

“Because you care,” she said, as though the answer was obvious. “You’ve been wasting all this time saving those little villages. Meanwhile, someone tried to kill Bulla while Vegeta wasn’t looking. If you’re there, I doubt they’d dare try again.”

“I don’t think I need to remind you that I’m the last person she’ll want around,” he said.

“Yes, but right now we have to ignore what she wants and put what she _needs_ ahead of that. I know it’s not what you want either, but this really is the best solution for everyone.”

 _The king knows about the mask,_ his mind reminded him _. That ship a viper’s nest._ “Right. I don’t suppose I have a say in any of this.”

“Obviously, you do. But I think you’ll agree with me in the end.”

She was baiting him, that much was obvious. If he wasn’t already so exhausted by it all, he might have been less annoyed by it. “How do you figure? And, please, enough with the cryptic talk.”

Marron eyed him as if she was trying to decide on something, and when she spoke again her voice was more measured than before. “I’m not surprised that your mother didn’t tell you, or that no one thought to tell you sooner. She wasn’t exactly thrilled with the news herself and we’ve all been a bit preoccupied.” She shifted where she sat and cleared her throat. “Bulla is pregnant with Goten’s child. Which, of course, makes her child your niece or nephew.”

It was his turn to scrutinize her. Did she think he forgot about what Frieza did? He was there when it happened. He was the one who _made sure_ it happened. She and Trunks were just kids, but Frieza had been so adamant about it. If he didn’t know any better, Gohan might have thought it was fear that made him order that. His jaw tightened and he shook his head. “That’s not possible. You _know_ it’s not.”

She motioned toward his hand. “You had Goten give her one of those, didn’t you? After those Saiyans attacked them, if I remember right. Neither of them realized the extent of what the beans were capable of healing, and now she’s alone on a ship full of a bunch of traitors and assassins.” She paused to think a bit. “I’d say she’s due to give birth not too long from now, give or take a few months.”

Gohan opened his hand again and looked down at the senzu beans. Marron was many things, he’d come to learn. She was cunning, shrewd, and far more deceptive than he’d expected from her. He’d done himself no favors by underestimating her or assuming her initial threats were anything but a defense mechanism.

But when it came to Bulla… she’d always been protective of her, to the point where even through his foggy memories he could recall times when she argued with Frieza on her behalf. Of all the things she’d lie about, this didn’t seem as likely to be one of them. No matter how badly she wanted to protect her friend, this would be too elaborate a lie to maintain even by her standards.

Even so, what she wanted him to do was out of the question. _The king has a plan for me. Vegeta was certain of it._ “I can’t go to the Saiyans,” he said finally. “If I do, it’ll just make things worse for her… and her baby.” He held his hand out to offer back the senzu beans, but she didn’t even glance at them. She stared at him and for the first time since he’d arrived he saw her calm, cool facade fade away as her gaze hardened and her features turned into a scowl.

“I guess I’m not surprised. You didn’t bother trying to help your own brother, after all,” she said harshly. “Maybe asking you at all was a mistake.”

He might have thought to ask her what she meant by that, but the sudden appearance of several new energy signatures didn’t give him that much time. Without a second thought, he shoved the senzu beans into his pocket and threw down a ki blast between them to jump back, causing Marron to fall backward into the fountain with a yell and allowing him the cover he needed to move quickly. He met an approaching Saiyan with a right hook and followed it up by kicking the man back into an already crumbling building. Two others appeared behind him, but while one managed to throw an arm around his neck, the other wasn’t fast enough to block the ki blast he sent their way. He lurched himself forward and used the Saiyan on his back as a projectile, throwing her into the blast-charred man just as he regained his footing.

Right when he thought he’d given himself an opening, a sharp pain struck him from behind, both from something hard digging into the middle of his back and another hitting the back of his knees. Unbalanced, Gohan allowed himself to fall forward, but once his open palm hit the ground, he used a moderately powered blast to create a crater, forcing whoever had struck him to jump back or fall down with him. It wasn’t the most ideal position, so he was quick to throw several blasts skyward before he launched himself up.

He didn’t get far. The Saiyan he’d kicked into a building before appeared in front of him and returned the favor, sending him hurtling back down through the roof of another ruin. The rest of the building collapsed on top of him before he even hit the ground, and he grit his teeth against the sharp edges of concrete and steel as it fell down on top of his arms. He’d just begun pushing the rubble off of him when several balls of light came down on top of him again, though they abruptly stopped at the sound of muffled voices.

“Hey! Come on out now. We’re not going to attack you, so long as you don’t attack us,” a voice said. “We’re not here to fight.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered under his breath. He held a large chunk of concrete up from his left shoulder. There was enough clearance to his right that he could see a solid piece of wall still standing, and from what he could tell, the Saiyans were likely waiting for him from above. In quick, fluid motions, he shoved the piece of concrete away from himself and sent a blast through the wall.

Clever as the plan was, it seemed they were expecting that. Two dropped down in front of the newly made hole just as he came out and rushed him right away. He barely managed to evade the blows from the burlier of the two, though the smaller woman was nothing to sniff at herself. She was quick and precise with her hits while the burly one went for the heavier attacks. He was able to land enough hits on the big one to send him flying off to the side, though unfortunately, it opened him up for a volley of attacks from the woman. In an attempt to create space, he jumped back and raised a hand to fire a blast at her, but she was quicker. She kicked his hand to the side and brought her other foot into his stomach. Before he could regain his balance, someone grabbed him from behind, hooking their arms under his to hold him back. For good measure, the woman kicked him in the stomach again.

“Knock it off, Fasha,” the man behind him snapped. “I told you we’re not here to fight.”

 _Sure seems like you’re not,_ he thought bitterly. The Saiyans returned, gathering around them on multiple sides. From his count, he could see four of them, not including the one holding him. The woman spat on the ground in front of him, her eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare as she sneered at him. The burly man brushed himself off and offered his own angry scowl, and the other two simply kept their eyes trained on him dutifully.

“We done here, Bardock?” the one called Fasha asked. 

The man holding him — Bardock, apparently — hummed to himself. “That’s up to this guy.” He squeezed his arms slightly tighter, enough that the strain on Gohan’s shoulders was nearly bone-breaking. He willed himself to ignore the pain as much as he could. “Wouldn’t be any problem popping these out of their sockets.” The threat garnered plenty of chuckles among his men, but he didn’t act on it. “What say we make a deal, huh?”

 _Deals. Why does everyone wanna make a deal with me?_ There was an added layer of oddity at the proposal coming from a Saiyan. He turned his head slightly and Bardock seemed to take that to mean he was listening. “I’ll let you go, but if you try anything, know that you’ll be putting everyone in this city up for execution. Got it?”

That was the Saiyan mentality he was used to. His jaw tightened as he weighed his options, though the answer was painfully clear. _Too many of them, too few of me._ He doubted he could trust Marron to get any help on his behalf either. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. Bardock released him and he stumbled only a couple of steps. His arms and shoulders ached, the pain radiating through the top half of his chest.

“Good. Rather we do this civil-like anyway,” Bardock said. Gohan turned to face him, only to be stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the man’s appearance. It was like a shock had been sent through his system, and he couldn’t help the dumbfounded stare. For his part, Bardock’s eyes narrowed into a glare before he came to a realization. “I’m not Kakarot if that’s what you’re wondering.”

If it wasn’t for his voice and the scar on his cheek, Gohan might have questioned that. He glanced over at the rest of the Saiyans as they stepped closer, boxing him in like they were ready for him to make a move. “Marron put you up to this?” he asked. Bardock crossed his arms and shook his head.

“We knew the princess keeps contact with her,” he said. “Wasn’t too hard to track her down and ask her ourselves.”

Naturally. It made perfect sense that Marron wouldn’t hesitate to hand him over, especially when she already seemed to have an agenda of her own. Honestly, he would’ve been impressed by her tenacity if it didn’t mean screwing him over. “So what happens now?”

Bardock stepped forward and propped his foot on a piece of broken concrete and leaned against it. “Again, that’s up to you. We have orders to bring you straight back to the king. So, we can go about it two ways. You could come along without a fuss and we leave this place without a fuss. Or this city,” He pushed his foot down to reduce the piece of rubble to dust. “If you catch my meaning.”

 _Not really the subtle type, is he?_ Gohan thought. _I still have the senzu beans._ Even if he was reasonably sure he could take all five of them, the city itself presented too difficult a challenge. “I’ll go with you. Just answer me one thing,” he said. Bardock regarded him curiously. “Why is the king so focused on gathering everyone in one spot?”

“We’re stronger together. When Frieza comes back, we’ll have a better chance of fighting him off,” Bardock said without hesitation. He almost believed it himself. But if he knew anything about Frieza’s men, he knew better than to take anything they said at face value. Even the ones who didn’t think they were his anymore. That said, there was no point in trying to argue with any of them. He nodded and glanced back at the rest of the city behind him.

“Alright then,” he said. “Take me to your king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. There's a lot of moving parts to put into place, and we're not even as far into the story as I'd like to be, haha. There's definitely some secretive shenanigans going on that absolutely no one is going to be happy about when they find out. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that everyone is staying safe and healthy. <3


	12. Bulla

It was well after midnight, Bulla realized as she paced in her room. Her back was killing her, and her legs hurt like crazy, but walking around was the only thing that she could think of to try and calm her baby the hell down.

When she first realized those little sharp stabs and fluttering feelings had been the result of the baby moving around, it’d been charming, even a little endearing once the strangeness of it all wore off. It began making up for the fact that she felt like she’d been getting bigger every single week. The baby seemed especially active whenever she was training, and that was all well and good by her since Avoca assured her it was a promising sign of the child’s potential, especially since at twenty weeks the baby was still quite young. But then she started moving around late at night while Bulla was very much sound asleep, and it only got more annoying the longer her demands went ignored. Part of Bulla considered going to Avoca and demanding that he figure out how to make her stop. Except, the last time she’d asked the old fart for help he’d condescendingly told her that Saiyan women aren’t prone to complaining so much and thus his experience was limited.

“Chill out already,” she muttered, running her hand down her stomach. “I just want to sleep. Can you let me do _that?_ ” As if the baby could understand, she responded with what felt like a swift kick directly against Bulla’s kidney. “Ugh… you little monster.”

 _This is his fault somehow,_ she thought bitterly, but the fact he crossed her mind at all left her more annoyed than before and the beginnings of a headache only added to her frustration. Bulla stopped pacing long enough to look outside. It was cold now — much too cold for her liking, honestly — and she grimaced at the clouds in the sky. Snow probably wasn’t too far away from them, and every day she wondered just how long this stupid war with Chigo’s men was going to last. Surely he realized by now that he’d lost; between her father and the might of an entire Saiyan army, he couldn’t possibly stand a chance.

“Prince Vegeta will be back when he’s back,” Raditz had told her. He was the last person who saw her father, and since she had no idea where Tollash had gone, he was the only one she could think of who might have answers for her. Turns out, she was mistaken. He was just as tight-lipped as everyone else was.

In fact, things had seemed even tenser recently. At first, she thought it had to do with the attempt on her life, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Just a couple of days ago, the king had started sending more and more Saiyans off the ship and into the city where they laid claim to large portions of it. Humans were relocated without much issue, though the rising tension was obvious. The more Saiyans that walked the streets, the less peaceful things seemed to be. If a single day went by without a fight breaking out, it was considered a boring one.

Her baby moved again and reminded her of why she was awake in the first place. It was an odd sensation, to be frank, like tiny feet were running across her stomach. She glared down at herself and sighed. _Saiyan women train through pregnancy not just to keep their own skills sharp, but to stimulate their child as well,_ Orgetta had explained recently. _Saiyan children require much more stimulation than humans do, I’m sure._

“You’re already such a brat. If you think I’m going to give in just because—” she started to say, but then she felt another kick that seemed pretty intentional. All she could do was take in a deep breath and close her eyes. “Fine. You win.” 

It felt strange talking to herself so much, but at the same time, she found it made her feel less lonely. Ever since she’d been relocated to the city herself, she’d felt more and more isolated, even with the two guards constantly outside her door. They fell in step only a few feet behind her everywhere she went, yet they never said or did anything without an order. _Just like Frieza’s men,_ she thought. When she stepped outside now, it was the same as it was when she was under Frieza’s thumb — they barely glanced at her before they dutifully began to follow. _So obedient, just like they were too._ At least it was because the king wanted her safe and not because he didn’t want her running off. She made her way up the street and toward the training arena, which was unsurprisingly quiet given the time. But just as she reached the door, she paused and looked back at her escort.

“Wait outside. Don’t come in unless I call for you, got it?” she said. They nodded and she continued inside, letting the door shut behind her. For as quiet as it seemed as she approached, there were still a few Saiyans inside. Most of them looked like they were just coming off a patrol or guard duty and needed to blow off steam. Honestly, she’d have preferred it if she had the arena to herself. She knew she could probably order them away, but… she had too many things working against her already.

 _A Saiyan only respects blood so long as the blood is strong._ She was a pregnant half-breed, shorter and smaller than most of the other women, and her blue hair and eyes set her so obviously apart from her would-be subjects that adding “taking away the training arena” to the list was the last thing on her mind. Maybe if her father were there, she wouldn’t have hesitated so much. Pushing aside whatever discomfort she felt, Bulla crossed the room and headed for the corner. The few Saiyans that were there paused in their training long enough to bow out of respect but thankfully left her alone otherwise.

She was too tired to do anything that required much movement, but she figured some ki blast training would be enough. At least, she hoped it would. Ideally, she’d be able to train enough to tire out her baby and finally get some sleep herself. She stepped over to a nearby panel and brought up a few holograms — nondescript figures with Saiyan silhouettes appeared across from her. The “dummies,” everyone called them. They didn’t move a lot to start, though she didn’t really need that right now anyway.

Bulla set to throwing small blasts at them. For each one that she hit, it would disappear and reappear in another spot, and she’d do her best to keep up with their patterns. As she progressed, the regiment would speed up more and more, spreading further apart so that she had to strain more. She’d just hit her stride when it suddenly felt like someone had punched her somewhere in her stomach. The last blast already building in her palm flew off to the side and right into a rack of training armor, destroying them in an instant.

“ _Shit._ ” Bulla did her best to hide her embarrassment from the eyes that immediately went to her direction, but her cheeks were burning. No one seemed brave enough to comment, even as a few of them went to clean up. It took her a moment to realize what the feeling in her stomach was, and when she did she scowled down at herself.

“Thanks for that,” she hissed. “I’m doing this for _you_ , you know.”

“Your Highness?” The unexpected voice made her jump and she jerked her attention to its bearer. Cress held both hands up and gave a small laugh. “Apologies, princess. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bulla cleared her throat and quickly looked away. Talking to her own stomach was probably not the sanest looking thing she could’ve done right now. “Y-You didn’t. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I was just curious as to why you were here so late,” he said. He paused and from the corner of her eye, she could see him look her up and down. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” she said, perhaps more harshly than she’d intended. “I… I wanted to train at a time when it wasn’t so busy.”

“Oh. Okay, if you say so,” he said. He shifted his weight and put one hand on his side while the other waved toward the destroyed armor. “Just worried something was wrong since it looked like that was an accident.”

Bulla frowned. She hadn’t realized anyone was watching her, though she supposed that was to be expected. She was the princess, after all. “No… no, it’s just…” Hesitating, her eyes dropped back down to her belly and she put her hands there. “She won’t let me sleep, so I was hoping to tire her out but… she kicked and it surprised me. I’m just so tired, damn it!”

The admission came out in a frustrated, angry rush before she could really think about what she was saying or who she was talking to. Once that realization came to her, she felt her cheeks warm up again, and doubt crept in. Was it weak to admit something like that? A tiny fetus kicking her and surprising her so much that she destroyed valuable equipment? God, that sounded so stupid now that she was thinking about it.

“Huh. Kid’s gotta be pretty strong to keep you awake like this then,” Cress said after a moment. He walked past her and to the console and had started pressing buttons before she thought to stop him.

“H-Hey! I’m not done with that,” she said.

“No reason to use it when you’ve got the real thing,” he said. Another button pressed and the last of the “dummies” disappeared. “We can work on what you want, and if something happens, I can make sure you don’t accidentally damage anything else. Sound good?”

Bulla started to protest, but he’d already moved to stand nearly the length of the room across from her. He turned and waved, then settled into a ready position while he waited. She sighed and glanced down at herself. “This better work.”

The first few blasts were weaker this time around. She wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, but insecurity had started to work its way into her, almost out of nowhere. Why the hell was she so nervous all of the sudden? She hadn’t felt this way before Cress showed up, yet now that he was here she just couldn’t shake it. _I guess he’s pretty good looking,_ she thought. _He’s tall, strong… and his face… I’ve never seen anyone quite like him before._ There was another fluttering feeling inside of her, but she knew it wasn’t coming from her baby. Who, now that she really thought about it, was also partially to blame for her sudden awkwardness. 

_I must look ridiculous to him._ It was hard to push the thought away, no matter how hard she tried. There she was, pretending not to notice the way her body wasn’t nearly as fast as it was just weeks ago, or how all she could picture in her mind is how she must’ve looked. Like a ball with sticks poking out of it. Rationally she knew it wasn’t _that_ big. She was petite and it likely just felt bigger than it looked — and she chose this, after all. Chose to keep the baby, to spit in the face of everyone who tried to take that choice away from her in the first place. But… still, she was having a difficult time with it all. So much of her life was built on her appearance.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he called out to her. It stopped her dead in her tracks. Was her doubt that obvious to see? “I can handle stronger blasts.”

“Right,” she said, relieved he hadn’t managed to read her thoughts after all. “I’m only holding back so you don’t get hurt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, princess,” he replied with a laugh. “I don’t think you could hurt me.”

In an instant, she forgot whatever issues she had with her body as anger flooded through her. She flung another blast at him, far more powerful than the last few, and smirked when he barely managed to catch it in his hands. He tossed it aside into the wall beside him and shook his hands out. When his eyes caught hers again, he smiled wide and Bulla felt the air leave her throat. She swallowed hard but refused to lower her gaze.

Cress laughed again and put a hand to his chest and bowed low. “I wondered if that would strike a nerve. Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“You _wanted_ to make me mad?” Bulla asked, incredulous. 

“I know, I know. Not the smartest idea, knowing who you are and what you’re capable of. But in my defense, you looked a bit lost and I thought it’d help you out,” he said. He stood straight and motioned to where he’d deflected the blast. “At least the wall’s still intact this time, huh?”

She glanced at the scorch mark and snorted. “You’re just lucky it was the wall that got hit and not your face.” 

His smile never wavered. “True. I’d rather have a face you’d enjoy looking at than one you wouldn’t.”

The blush returned to her cheeks, though she quickly diverted her gaze once more. Why did he have that effect on her? _How?_ She’d never felt this way with anyone… well, almost anyone. But usually, she had some control over it. _She_ was supposed to be the one to make others feel this way, not the other way around. Yet even as she thought that her heart began to beat a little faster. It wasn’t until she looked up again that she realized he was standing in front of her.

“You alright, princess?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she would hear him.

“I… yes. Yes, I’m fine. I’m… I think I’m just tired,” she said. He nodded dutifully and held his arm out toward the door.

“Let me walk you back,” he said. It wasn’t a request — it should’ve been, she thought vaguely, but she wasn’t too interested in fighting about it. As they walked, she found herself glancing at him from the corner of her eye, taking in the scars on his cheek and brow. Something about him seemed familiar to her, yet no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t place it. After a few moments of silence, he let out a small laugh and turned his head so he could face her completely. “You know, when I said I’d rather have a face you enjoy looking at, I didn’t think you’d take that as an invitation.”

If her cheeks kept turning red like this, she was sure they’d wind up stuck that way. She turned her gaze to the street in front of her and shook her head. “It’s not that! I was just trying to decide if I’d seen you before.”

“Before?”

“Yes, before.” When she fell quiet again, he stepped closer and nudged his elbow against her shoulder. She slowed to a stop and crossed her arms, still refusing to look directly at him as she considered how to say what was on her mind. “I… you were with Frieza, weren’t you? I’m trying to figure out if we’ve ever met before.”

At that, the air felt slightly colder. Silence settled between them for a little while. Bulla tried to ignore the way her stomach tightened. Thinking about Frieza was never a pleasant experience, less so now thinking about him in the context of the things she had to go through under his rule. _I’m not there anymore,_ she reminded herself. _And I’ll never go back._

“We did once… well, sort of,” Cress said at last. His answer surprised her enough to draw her attention away from her own thoughts and she looked up at him. There was a curious expression on his face, something that she couldn’t quite read. “A few years ago, during Conquest Day. He brought a bunch of us from the pits to compete in a tournament in West City. At the time, he said that anyone who managed to survive would get a fair chance at freedom, so of course, all of us were gonna fight hard for it.”

Bulla remembered that day. It wasn’t often that Frieza brought out his fighters for a celebration, but Conquest Day always served as a reminder just how powerful his men were. She was around seventeen and had spent weeks preparing for it with Marron. The singing and dancing had to be perfect, or else they’d risk Frieza’s wrath, and they practiced so much that her limbs shook from the strain of rehearsing for the days leading up to the tournament. Though, she’d always thought the fighters were just men from his army… it never occurred to her that he might have other kinds of pets. Cress shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest before he continued.

“And we did. Every single one of us. It was brutal if I’m honest. A lot of people I liked just turned into savage beasts over the prospect of freedom — friendships got broken up as everyone started turning on one another. I was the only Saiyan alive at that point, and I’d like to say I was different, but… I wasn’t. Not really. I wanted to get out, too. By the time the tournament actually began, a lot of us were already dead. We were eating each other alive just to narrow down the competition for the big day. And that’s when I saw you.”

She frowned and thought for a moment, then shook her head. “How? I was never allowed to watch any of those tournaments.”

Cress nodded. “Right, but _we_ weren’t barred from watching your performances. I remember it pretty well, too. You were wearing this weird dress... it was so short, I couldn’t believe anyone could actually move around in it, but you made it look easy. And when you sang… I don’t think I’d ever heard anything so beautiful.” He hesitated, then let out a small chuckle. “Sorry, I know that sounds corny as hell. But… it’s the truth. Anyway, at the time I didn’t realize you were a Saiyan too, just that you were one of his prized songbirds. Looking back, I should’ve realized.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled, though it seemed a hollow one. “Only a Saiyan would be stupid enough to openly glare at Lord Frieza so much in public.”

Bulla wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her regretted asking in the first place, but the other felt strangely at ease. For her entire life, it had just been her and Marron — whatever other pets Frieza had was something she’d never considered before. The years of torment, the humiliation, the insults, all of the shit she went through just because of who her father was came rushing back to her in an instant. But along with that came a strange sense of calmness, knowing that she wasn’t alone. Knowing that someone else understood what it meant to be one of Frieza’s pets was satisfying on its own.

“You’ll… be available to train again tomorrow?” she asked. 

“If that’s what you want, of course.” The guards returned to their post on either side of her door and Cress looked to them a moment before he bowed low. “Rest well, Your Highness.”

She tried. Bulla mostly wound up staring at the wall, struggling to get her mind clear. Cress… what was it about him that made her feel that way? When he wasn’t around, she hardly thought about him. But when he was, it was like her whole body decided to stop functioning correctly. Sure, he was handsome, but lots of guys were handsome. It wasn’t like he was the only good-looking guy around, and she’d never been the type to get all flustered around them, anyway. She hadn’t been this way around Goten, had she? No… no, he was different. She thought about him when he wasn’t around — and not because she _wanted_ to either. He just refused to leave her alone, even when he wasn’t there. It made her head hurt just thinking about that idiot sometimes, like the mere mention of his name jabbed tiny needles behind her eyes. Even so, she couldn’t stop.

How long had it been since he went into that rift? Two months? Three? It felt longer than that. Felt like a lifetime even though she carried proof that it wasn’t. Bulla scowled at the wall and turned over to her other side, willing herself to stop thinking about him and his stupid face. _He’s such a pain in the ass,_ she thought. _Even when he’s not here, he still manages to piss me off._ The longer he stayed gone, the better, she decided. It wasn’t like she needed him anymore anyway. _He can die in there for all I care,_ she told herself. Maybe she’d believe that in the morning.

Sleep came eventually, and along with it the same house by the same river with the same voices. Always she had her hand on the door before she’d hear Frieza, and then everything would change. Sometimes she’d turn away from it, and her surroundings would change. Other times she’d open the door, only to wake up before she found out who was waiting on the other side. This time, however… was different. 

It was the same door, the same voices, yet something else drew her attention. Something off in the distance, so far away that she couldn’t even tell where it was coming from. But she knew it felt familiar, and that drove her to look for it. She stepped away from the door, away from the hallway of the ship, and began her search. Yet the more she traveled, the further away it seemed; she traveled over fields and mountains, an ocean and a desert, through cities and villages… until it was so close that all she had to do was reach out and—

But the sound of knocking tore her away from her dream. It took her a moment to wake up, her eyes blinking against the sunlight spilling into her room from the window. A muffled voice called her name beyond the door and she let out a heavy sigh.

“Give me a moment,” she said, exasperated. She rubbed her face and pulled herself out of bed, wincing at the tight knot that had settled somewhere in the base of her spine. Once she wrapped herself up in her robe, she made for the door and opened it slowly. It was one of her guards, and he bowed slightly when she laid eyes on him. “What is it?”

“The king sent for you. He requests you join him for breakfast,” he said. He bowed again and returned to his spot by the door as she closed it.

As she dressed, Bulla couldn’t help wondering why the king sent for her so early. She hadn’t exactly gotten a great night’s rest anyway, but the sun looked like it’d only just risen. Still, it was the king and whatever he wanted must have been important enough to warrant such a call like this. Bulla stepped outside and glanced skyward to the dark grey clouds that loomed overhead. The cold air took no time at all to chill her skin despite the coat she wore, though she worked not to show it as she walked toward the ship with her guards. 

While the king had sent most of his people down to the city below, he himself remained aboard the ship with a select number of guards to accompany him. It was eerily quiet as she walked down the long hallway leading to his chambers. Her guards broke away from her side to stand on either side of the massive door, and she walked inside to find her grandfather sitting at the head of the table. Okara was at his side with her back to Bulla, but it wasn’t difficult to tell that she was speaking to the king in a hushed tone. The king didn’t say anything back — he simply took in whatever it was Okara was telling him, and when he caught sight of Bulla he raised his hand to end the conversation. Bulla remained by the door and lowered her gaze out of respect, and when the king motioned toward the chairs she took the invitation to sit down. Just as she lowered herself into her seat, Okara settled down directly across from her.

“My, my! What a pretty sight you are today, princess! Just look how your skin glows,” Okara said loudly. “Pregnancy suits you, I think.”

Bulla’s lips thinned slightly. It was hard not to be bothered by the comment, whether it was meant as a compliment or not, but she forced herself to nod. “Thank you, Okara. I’m glad to see you made it back alright.” Okara had been gone for a few days. The last she heard, she’d been sent off to investigate something important for the king. The woman giggled and nodded happily, but said nothing more.

The king, however, shifted his attention to Bulla. “How do you find your new accommodations? I’m told the home they selected for you belonged to one of Chigo’s top-ranking generals.”

 _That makes sense. It’s a lot nicer than the other houses I saw,_ she thought. _Maybe a little too big for one person._ “It’s very comfortable, Your Highness. I appreciate the thought you put into it.”

“You will need to thank Orgetta for the suggestion,” he said. “Avoca made mention that your child may be stronger than we previously believed. I take it your training regiment has been paying off.”

The last time she spoke to Avoca, he didn’t seem so sure about that. She wondered if anything had changed, though she didn’t have much time to think about it. “I hope so. Without my dad, I’ve been having to come up with new ways to train, especially with the baby getting so...”

“Active?” Okara offered.

“Um, yes.” _And big._ Bulla hesitated and considered for a moment before she continued. “If I may ask… where is my dad? I was expecting him to return by now.”

The king waved his hand dismissively, though the motion also seemed to serve as a separate command as well. Three servants entered the room shortly after and began setting plates of food in front of each of them. “Your father is participating in a little experiment with Tollash. I expect his return soon enough, should he be successful.” The way he said it made her feel uneasy, though she couldn’t place exactly why. “In the meantime, I did call you here for a reason. Your work with Okara and the information you have provided us have not gone unnoticed nor has it gone unappreciated. I’m told our network within West City has grown exponentially as a result of your contacts’ cooperation.”

In spite of her interest in what the king meant by “experiment,” it was difficult to ignore the swell of pride that rose in her chest, so she let herself lean into a little. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

“Yes, but it’s so infuriating to know that you were almost taken from us!” Okara exclaimed. She leaned over the table suddenly, both of her hands pressed down on either side of her plate. “I’ve put our West City project on hold for now. My agents have been searching high and low for the culprits, princess. Make no mistake that we _will_ find whoever tried to harm you.”

 _So they didn’t forget about that,_ she thought. “Thank you, Okara.” She actually meant the gratitude that time, and Okara gave her a curt, but determined-looking nod as she sat back down in her seat. Bulla glanced down at her plate — they’d prepared a breakfast of sausages, bacon, eggs, and plain baked potatoes. It looked appetizing enough, yet as she began eating it tasted slightly off to her. Then again, ever since she’d gotten pregnant, what _didn’t_ taste strange to her anymore? The fact that she liked Chi-Chi’s gross tea was proof that she’d lost the ability to taste anything.

Neither the king or Okara had started eating yet, though they didn’t seem to mind that she had. She only got a couple of bites in before the king started speaking to her, however, so she thought it best to stop while he did. “The attempt on your life is actually the very reason I called you here. I believe we have found an… agreeable solution. A short while ago, I sent a team to South City in an effort to locate Son Gohan.”

Bulla paused at the mention of his name and frowned slightly. “I… you think he’s really there?”

“I know he was. As a matter of fact, Okara made contact with your former companion there who had a rather interesting proposition,” the king said.

“Oh, yes, she was _very_ upset to hear of the attempt on your life,” Okara said. “To that end, she was more than happy to assist us in finally meeting with him! Bardock’s team should be returning with him any day now, assuming they don’t run into any problems along the way. Chigo has gotten quite brave as of late.”

“Quite reckless, more like,” the king corrected. 

Bulla tried her best not to let her emotions read too plainly on her face. But her throat felt tight — really tight, actually — and she struggled to swallow against the knot forming there. “You’re… h-he’s coming here?” She cleared her throat again, not that it did much good.

“Yes. I’m certain once we’ve had a chance to speak he will prove far more reasonable than your father,” the king said. “Your companion seems to think his presence would discourage any further attempts on your life.”

“ _What?_ ” Bulla managed to say sharply. She couldn’t believe that. _Wouldn’t_ believe that. Marron of all people knew what Gohan really was, knew what he was capable of doing, and knew what he had already done to her. Her heart pounded harder in her chest, and it felt as though something was tightening around her neck. Still, she forced herself to remain focused on what the king said. “Th-That’s… no, there has to be some m-mistake. Marron wouldn’t…” She was light-headed, so much that she could barely focus. 

The king shook his head. “There’s no mistake. We received word that… Bulla?”

She couldn’t breathe. It was so sudden that she hadn’t realized at first, but now she was desperately gasping for air. Bulla reached for her glass of water automatically but only succeeded in knocking it over. Okara shouted something and several things began happening at once; more shouting, then hands went to her shoulders and forced her to stand up, and the king’s hard eyes locked onto hers as she struggled to understand what was happening. _Why can’t I breathe?_ A second later and everything had become a dark blur, like a thin shroud was being brought down over her eyes. Avoca’s voice was loud and sharp, piercing through every other sound easily, but she could only make out a single word. One that sent a shockwave of terror through her, forcing her body to move even when hands kept her still.

 _Poison?_ Nothing seemed real. Avoca was there, and while she couldn’t understand what he was saying, she could hear the urgency in his voice. _Am I dying? I… I can’t die! My baby, she’s…_ Bulla tried to speak, but she only sputtered instead. Vaguely she heard someone else say her name, telling her to do something but all she could think about was her daughter. If she died, there was no telling what would happen to her baby. Could Avoca save her? Could he keep her alive? If she died but they saved her daughter, then… then that wouldn’t be so bad, she decided. _Frieza still loses._ But so did she, in a way. In a big way, actually.

Suddenly, a strange feeling crept over her like a warm blanket. The same one from her dream, the one she was chasing. It was a little scary, but at the same time, it felt… familiar, almost. Like she knew it. _It’ll be alright. I promise._ She knew that voice, too. As she closed her eyes, she realized she wasn’t as afraid anymore.


	13. Goten

Goten felt really, really stupid.

Looking back, he should’ve known from the start that something wasn’t right. As if _Bulla_ of all people would accept life as a regular housewife, or that he’d ever do anything that didn’t involve fighting to survive. It just felt so real at the time that he didn’t even think to question it. And they’d been so happy — they had kids and everything. Healthy, happy kids. There was certainly no denying that there was something almost satisfying about living such a normal, everyday life free from any fear of Frieza or his men or war or fighting… but at the same time, it was only a hollow shell of what made life worth living. Still, part of him missed those kids, and it was hard not to miss a version of Bulla that was so happy.

The feeling of water dripping on the back of his head pulled him from his murky thoughts. Was it rain? No… no, it smelled too sour for rain. Confused, he struggled to look up, to try and regain his bearings. It felt like his eye was bleeding, or that tears were spilling from it, but when he tried to touch it he found his limbs impossibly heavy. Every breath felt labored, like it was too difficult to do something so basic. His throat burned with each gasp.

 _Am I gonna die here?_ His panicked mind seemed to think so, but he pushed back against it. _No way, I can’t die. Not now._

“C-Come on,” he said to himself. Saying it out loud would help. He had to find his dad and get back home. “Come on.” Now wasn’t the time to be weak. What would Vegeta say? What would Vegeta _do?_ Certainly not just lie down and let himself die. “Come on!” And if he died now he’d just be doing to Bulla what his dad did to his mom. He couldn’t leave her to raise their baby alone. He couldn’t let history repeat itself, not after everything they’d been through. “ _Come on!_ ”

Goten threw as much strength as he could into his arms, using them to pull himself upright. He grasped blindly at the steel floor below him, trying to use it for leverage and slipped twice for his efforts. Once he got to his hands and knees, he took a moment to swallow a few gasps of air. Everything smelled like methane, which made every inhale feel as sharp and wet as if he was drinking tiny needles. Why did he feel so weak? It was like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, but that couldn’t be right. There was no way he’d been in that place for that long.

Going through the portal in the first place had been a mistake. He’d been so sure about it at the time, so confident that it was the right choice. One minute it seemed like he had all the answers, the next he didn’t. And now he was so weak that he shook with every step he tried to take. How long had it been since he’d eaten? How long since he’d slept? And how long exactly had he been trapped here?

Then again, maybe trapped wasn’t the word. If it was, then he deserved this because he literally walked right into it. The memory was hazy, like it had happened in a dream and he only remembered vague details. He remembered how calm he was, how sure he felt about something he was utterly terrified of. He remembered Bulla’s voice, pleading at him even though she never pleaded for anything. He remembered knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he was doing this for her and their baby, but now… now he wasn’t so sure. How was coming _here_ helping them? He hadn’t found a single sign of where his father was, and at this rate, he was probably going to die from starvation or exhaustion or both.

 _Like an idiot,_ he could hear Bulla say. 

Man, he missed her. He missed his mother and Bulma and Gohan too. He even missed Vegeta. All he wanted to do was find his dad and stop Frieza, but this was stupid. Painfully, horribly stupid and he should’ve known better. Why hadn’t he known that at the time? Why hadn’t he just listened to Bulla?

“You were right,” he said to her even if she wasn’t really there. “I am pretty stupid sometimes.” He stumbled over his own feet and just barely managed to catch himself before he fell into a wall. It hurt to breathe, hurt to stand, hurt to move. He wished his body would stop hurting, but he knew at this point that was just wishful thinking. Another minute passed before he managed to climb to his feet and stumble forward. 

Wherever he was, it was both too different and too familiar. He was in some kind of building, huge and made almost entirely of steel and double-paned plastic windows. It almost looked like Bulma’s lab in some respects; some rooms had rows of what looked like computers lining the walls, with chairs and notepads full of strange-looking text in a language he didn’t recognize. Other rooms were completely empty save for the occasional signs that maybe someone had been here ages ago — he’d find that same foreign writing scribbled on walls, which always left him with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. But outside was where the differences really showed.

No matter where he looked there was water everywhere. It was a deep shade of green and perpetual rain came down as golf ball-sized chunks of water. It smelled horrible, but that wasn’t even the worst part about it. The one time he’d dared to step outside, he immediately regretted it. The giant raindrops burned his skin, and he still had a round burn mark on his forearm to show for it. Off in the distance, there was a moon with three rings around it, and two suns loomed overhead. Night never seemed to fall here, or at least not that he’d noticed yet, but it was never quite bright enough. The suns seemed far away, leaving wherever he was to feel a few degrees cooler than he was used to. He shivered now and again.

As he stumbled through a doorway, he found himself face to face with another sealed door and let out a frustrated sigh. The last few doors like this had led nowhere, and left him more exhausted than he had been before. He couldn’t keep wasting energy like this, at least not until he could find some food. Defeated, Goten turned away from it and tried to think of where to go next. So far, his luck hadn’t exactly been great. This door could very well lead to nothing… then again, what choice did he have? How long could he wander this place before he starved or passed out or both? This door could mean the difference between life and death and at this point, frankly, what did he have to lose? If he was going to die, he might as well go down while he was still conscious and able to fight at least a little bit.

“A-Alright. Here goes nothing,” he muttered. It took some effort to get his fingers between the narrow center of the metal door, and once he did, he had to rest for a moment before he began to pull them apart. It was a slow, agonizing process but at one point he must have triggered some mechanic because they flew open the rest of the way. Goten took a deep breath and leaned against the doorway, grasping at the steel beneath his fingers tightly. He reached up to wipe the wetness from under his left eye, though when he looked up he forgot all about that.

A stock room, with stacks of sealed metal cases sitting in a neat, dusty line around the room. Off in the corner was a sleeping bag, huge and lumpy and covered in a thin layer of dust itself. The cases held his attention, though; up till now, every case he’d come across had been opened and completely empty. But _these ones_ were sealed. Maybe there was something in them to get him back home, or at least send a message. Surely Bulma had some weird, previously undisclosed piece of tech that would pick that kind of thing up, right?

Goten took a few shaky steps inside and made for one of the boxes, his hands trembling as he began to pry it open. There were no magical MacGuffins waiting for him, just dozens of foil-covered packets. But upon opening one he quickly realized what they were and whatever disappointment he felt before vanished in an instant, replaced by relief.

 _Food._ Or, something like it.

“Oh, man!” he said in relief, nearly crying. He tore into two more boxes to uncover the other packets and discovered bags of some kind of blue gelatin-like stuff. The solid stuff tasted like old, stale crackers and the blue stuff tasted somewhere between lemons and cabbage water, but it wet his dry mouth, and he found it difficult to complain much. He’d gone through two of the boxes before he managed to stop and firmly reminded himself that he’d have to ration carefully. Goten doubted he’d happen upon another room like this again, given everything he’d seen so far. At the very least he had some strength back, though he was still extremely tired.

He looked around the room and frowned at the lumpy sleeping bag. “Well… I guess this is fine for now,” he said to himself. Goten raised a hand to wipe the wetness from his eye as he approached the sleeping bag but slowed when he got near. It wasn’t just lumpy — there was a very specific shape beneath the covers, and he felt his stomach sink. Whatever it was, it was almost shaped like a person.

Goten knelt down beside it slowly, his eyes locked on the unmoving form. As he peeled open the bag, his suspicions were confirmed: inside was a corpse, and the stench nearly made him throw up everything he’d just eaten. He quickly resealed the bag and pushed himself back away from it.

“So much for not finding anyone,” he said. Goten shuddered and looked away from the body.

There was a window on the other side that revealed another room. It was dark, save for the dull red light that occasionally lit it up like a pulse. As Goten got closer, he could’ve sworn he saw something move. He got close to the glass in time to be met with a loud clattering noise and a shriek, and instinctively jumped back when something appeared on the other side of the window.

A large six-armed creature stood there snarling at him, with two rows of sharp, shark-like teeth inside a mouth that took up nearly the entire width of its face. It had three glowing gold eyes on each side of its head, each one locked onto him. From what Goten could see, it had tufts of fur sticking out around its collar. It slammed two sets of its hands — or claws, Goten wasn’t quite sure — against the glass and hissed at him, spit flying against the window.

“W-What are…” Goten stared at it until it backed away, still hissing as it disappeared back into the darkness. He continued to stare at the window, unable to really process what he’d just seen. After a moment he crept closer and peered inside, though the creature seemed to have moved where he couldn’t see it, as far as he could tell, it hadn’t left either.

For as curious as he was, Goten also couldn’t ignore just how exhausted he felt. He was at his limit and at this point trying to ignore it was futile, especially since every time he blinked it got more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. He found a spot, off it a corner, away from the window, where he hoped it wouldn’t be able to see him. Yet despite his exhaustion, Goten still found himself thinking about everything that happened. He’d gone into a portal thinking it would take him to his dad and now he was… where? Another planet? Another dimension? Both? Neither? If it was another planet, then at least he had some experience there. Though he doubted Vegeta would randomly appear to save his skin this time.

Saving. He always needed so much saving, didn’t he? That was why he needed to find his dad. How could he possibly hope to protect Bulla and their child when he couldn’t even protect himself? He just wasn’t strong enough. He never would be. That’s probably why he’d end up dying in a lonely place like this. But that thought only made him angry at himself.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured out loud. “Can’t think like that.” This wasn’t the time to plan his own funeral, he decided. He refused to die here. As he slipped into a dreamless sleep, he could’ve sworn he heard someone whispering something in his ear.

Waking up was harder than he thought it would be, but he was almost surprised he opened his eyes again. Part of him had expected to wake up and find the creature chewing on his leg or ripping him apart, though he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved that that wasn’t the case. He was still in his corner leaning against the wall, and when he pushed away from it his entire body ached. Goten pulled himself up on shaky legs and immediately glanced at the window again, though the creature didn’t make another appearance. 

He tried not to think about it as he stretched his tired limbs. On the one hand, seeing another living being — he assumed it was alive, anyway — made him feel strangely at ease. On the other hand, it was kind of terrifying. He set about going over just how much food he had. Between the seven boxes, there looked to be enough to last him for a long while. The only problem was finding a way to carry any of it. He hadn’t exactly thought to bring a backpack or anything, and there was only so much he could carry in his pockets.

“Man...how am I supposed to get all of this out?” Goten muttered. He rubbed the back of his head as he considered his options, his gaze trailing over the boxes before going back to the sleeping bag. He _could_ fashion it into a makeshift bag, but that would mean cleaning it out and… he frowned to himself at the thought, knowing it was likely his best option. Still, having to go near that body again put him on edge. He swallowed hard and took in a deep breath before he peeled back the blanket, grimacing as he laid eyes on the body again. 

However, now that he was more aware, he noticed how it too seemed to share some characteristics with the creature on the other side of the window. This one wasn’t as large as the other, but there was no mistake that it was of the same species. Six arms, two long, thin legs, and three closed eyes on both sides of its face. Its mouth was open wide enough to reveal an engorged purple tongue hanging out, and its sharp teeth were yellow in color. He could see that it had three finger-like appendages on each hand, long and sharp at the ends. Its flesh had a slightly blue hue to it, and the fur around its neck was a deep purple color. Goten noticed that it was clutching something very tightly in one of its hands, and he reached down to gently wriggle it out of its grasp.

“Is this a… radio?” he murmured. That was certainly what it looked like, though when he pressed the button nothing happened.

Another loud slamming sound against the window and he looked back to see the creature had returned, shrieking and hitting the glass with all its might. Goten looked back down at the dead creature for a moment, then stood and walked back toward the window. He held up the device, unsure of what to make of it.

“Can you tell me what this is?” he asked. The creature stared at him unblinking, then slammed its hands against the window and shrieked at him again. “H-Hey! I’m not gonna do anything, I just want to know what this is!”

It shrieked again and Goten sighed. Of course it didn’t understand him — he should’ve figured that out sooner, between the way it looked and all the strange writing he kept finding. He started to turn away when he heard a knock on the window and turned back to see it holding up a device similar to the one in his hand. He blinked, held up the one he had, and pressed a button. The creature did the same and the one in his hand crackled to life. 

“ _Gri sa oorna_.” Its voice was guttural and deep, but Goten could hear the weariness in it.

“I… sorry, I don’t speak, uh…” he started awkwardly, but the creature let out a throaty growl and tapped on the glass insistently.

“ _Gri sa oorna!_ ” it said.

Goten stared blankly, then looked back at the body and shook his head. “I don’t—”

Another series of taps, another angry growl. “ _Gri. Sa. Oorna!_ ”

Goten looked back at the glass and realization struck him at once. There was a crack there, barely noticeable until he stepped closer. He put his hand against it and the creature traced the cut slowly.

“ _Gri sa oor vas we do te kina._ ”

He had no idea what it was saying, but it didn’t really take a genius to piece it together. “I think I understand — you want me to help you get out, right?”

Obviously that’s what it wanted. Judging by how the corpse looked and smelled, he could only imagine how long the other creature had been in that room, though it occurred to him that maybe there was a reason the creature was locked in there. Maybe letting it out would be like signing his own death warrant. Or maybe neither of those things were true and it was in the same situation he was. Maybe if he left it behind he’d be leaving an innocent creature to die a slow, agonizing death. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself wondering about that for the rest of his life, if he ever made it out of here. 

With his mind made up, Goten gave a quick nod and slid the radio into his back pocket. He paused and awkwardly motioned for it to back up. “It might hit you if you’re too close,” he said. It tilted its head at him and he took a few large steps back himself and pointed at the creature. It eyed him a moment before it stepped out of view.

Goten took in a deep breath and charged up a ki blast between his hands. The charge took up more effort than he’d expected — way more effort, actually — but he forced himself to push through it long enough to let it slam through and shatter both the steel wall and the window. As the power faded away, he took a few shaky steps back to collapse on one of the boxes, taking in deep, pained breaths. His left eye felt like it was on fire, but he was having a difficult time reaching up to touch it. His limbs just felt so heavy now. Too heavy. Too weak.

The creature stepped into the room slowly, its long legs moving carefully as it entered. In the light, Goten could see how much bigger it was than the corpse nearby. It was at least two feet taller than him, its six arms far more defined than the dead one’s and its glowing gold eyes studying him like he was just as alien to it as it was to him. Its clothing hung off of it like rags would, although Goten could tell it had at one point been some kind of armor. But it was the sound of something clanging that caught his attention and he glanced to its side to realize it was retrieving a large, very sharp-looking sword.

Even so, even knowing that it was probably going to kill him now, every muscle in his body felt like it’d turned to jelly. Why? Why had it drained him so much to do something so simple? He was hungry, sure, but he couldn’t have been _that_ hungry. It felt like he was on the brink of passing out. He tried to stand only to fall forward onto his knees, and he heard it let out a disapproving hiss. Whatever strength he had was quickly fleeing from him, to the point where it was a struggle just to hold himself up with his own two arms. It said something, something he still couldn’t quite hear, and stepped closer to him. 

“Are… are you gonna kill me?” he asked. Honestly, considering that he just kept walking himself into these situations, it was bound to get him killed eventually. _You should’ve stayed home, idiot,_ he could hear Bulla again. He closed his eyes and imagined her glaring at him, and the thought made him smile. He could be on his death bed and she’d find a reason to be mad at him.

“ _E drazo ban’lo vas-la... we do te kina_ . _Do kudana._ ”

“O-Oh…” he muttered. “Well...that...that doesn’t sound very nice.” He tried to look up at the creature, to watch as the sword disappeared from his view. A second later, everything went black.

He was falling. He wasn’t sure where he was falling, but he could tell he was falling. Everything was dark and something smelled like gas. And his eye, his damn eye, itched like crazy. Slowly he regained consciousness, the darkness fading away to a dull light. His vision was blurry but he could just make out the grated, blue-tinted floor below him. Whatever he was on was moving slowly, its large feet pounding against the metal floor with loud thuds. As he raised his head slightly, he realized that he was on the creature’s back. Confused, he struggled to shift so that he could see where they were going. Two of its arms were bent impossibly backward to hold him up, and when he moved it let out a low growl.

“ _We tusu tena,_ ” it said.

“W-What?” he said. “Where are you taking me?” He tried again to see over its head and it hissed again.

“ _We tusu te, busu-busuna,_ ” it said again.

“Hey, listen, I helped you out so—AH!” He hit the metal ground hard, one hand going to clutch his surely bruised shoulder. “Ow, ow ow ow! _Jeez!_ You didn’t need to drop me like that!”

It turned to look at him, clicking its teeth together. “ _Te ka’ya dana.”_ It bent slightly to get a closer look at him, its lower arms grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling him upright. “ _Kaba be, busu-busuna._ ” Goten blinked in confusion as it reached out to pat him on the head before walking on. It got a few feet ahead before he hurried to catch up to it.

“Hold on! What about the food? The water?” It barely glanced at him and he tried to mime eating. “You know, food! Like...like to eat!”

That seemed to come across clearly because the creature clicked its teeth again and reached into one of its pockets to hand him a packet. “ _Te koko dena?_ ” it said curiously. “ _Eudu be, busu-busuna._ ” 

It wasn’t quite what he meant, but Goten took the packet and tore into it without a second thought anyway. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t constantly feel like he was on the verge of starvation. Now, though, it was almost a relief to have some company. The creature didn’t seem interested in killing him, that much was obvious by now, and judging by the way it occasionally looked his way it seemed just as curious about him as he was about it. It also didn’t slow down its own pace, its long legs carrying it further and faster than Goten could naturally. He kept up with it while he ate one, then two, then three packets before it hissed at him and he took that to mean he was done. It wasn’t quite enough to make him feel completely full, but at least the pain in his stomach had gone away.

“Thanks,” he said. It glanced at him and clicked its teeth. The more they walked, the more he realized that it seemed to have a specific path in mind. He had to work to keep up with it sometimes; despite its size, it was remarkably fast. They walked for what felt like hours in almost complete silence, stopping only when their path came to an abrupt end.

The metal walkway they were following led outside and while that alone was enough to make Goten hesitate, the fact that there was a massive gap between the platform they were on and the other one right across gave him another reason to pause. He could make it just fine by flying, but with how big this guy was and how weak he felt already, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to help him across. Not to mention, he hadn’t forgotten how much the rain stung the last time he tried to go outside.

It seemed to sense his hesitation and gave a low rumbling growl. As it moved to open the door, he stepped forward to try and stop it.

“Hey, that rain out there hurts,” he said. He pointed outside and then showed it his arm where the raindrops had burned him. “See?”

The creature turned its gold eyes to his arm and raised one of its lower hands to poke it. “ _We runa. Te draas bo fre’yuna,_ ” it said. It almost sounded like it was talking to him like he was a child, that feeling emphasized by the way it pat him on the head again. “ _We shas-vo te, busu-busuna. Fre’yu baba dona._ ” 

“Uh, y-yeah, so...I can probably fly across there, but I don’t think I can carry you and make it without—”

He had no idea he was capable of making the sound he made when the creature scooped him up under two of its left arms and flung both him and itself across the wide gap between platforms. The raindrops barely grazed his skin though it didn’t burn as badly as it had before. It rushed forward and practically dropped him in front of the sealed door, shielding him from the rain with its body. It tapped his shoulder and mimicked the motions he’d made to fire a ki blast.

“Are you sure?” he asked, but it tapped him again, more urgently this time.

“ _Eu-euna!_ ” It said. “ _Te ban’lo covona!_ ” 

Not seeing much of a choice, Goten quickly threw a ki blast through the door. It didn’t have the same power as the one he’d used to break the creature out of its cell, but it was enough to allow them both room to wedge their hands into the hole and pry the door open. After some effort, they hurried inside and the door slammed closed behind them.

Unlike the previous platform, this one looked like it’d gone through hell. It was almost completely dark, with a few emergency lights illuminating parts of the long hallway. But the most bizarre part was the plants that seemed to be growing out of the walls. Goten moved closer and reached out to touch one, just to see if it was real, but the creature hissed and slapped his hand down.

“ _Te yuzu’roa bo kina,_ ” it chided. It reached out and ripped one of the plants out of the wall, then turned it over in its hand to show him the wires hanging out of it in place of roots. Electricity sparked off the ends, flickering in the dark. “ _Rusna?_ ZAP!” It threw the fake plant onto the ground and stomped on it.

“Thanks,” he said. The creature grunted then moved toward the center of the room to sit down and he followed to do the same. “So, we’re taking a break? That’s probably good. I’m still pretty hungry.” He knew it couldn’t understand him, but it felt nice to talk to something that could at least hear him.

It clicked its teeth and let out what sounded like a chuckle. “ _Te dres’di bo klesna._ ” It patted him on the head again and made a cooing noise, and now he _knew_ it thought of him as a child. But what was he going to do? It was twice his size and honestly, he couldn’t really blame it. He could only assume he must’ve been about the same size as a child of its species. It offered him another packet and once he finished eating it reached out to pat his head again. Almost like it was petting him, now that he thought about it.

Okay. So, maybe it thought of him more like a pet. A useful pet. It _had_ just used him to open the door and now it was patting his head like he was a dog. He rubbed his face and sighed. After a moment of silence, he shifted so that he could look at it. 

“My name is Son Goten,” he said slowly. Maybe it would understand that he wasn’t a pet if he told it his name. It blinked at him and he adjusted so he was sitting on his knees. He put his hands to his chest. “Son Goten.”

It looked at him curiously and reached out to poke his chest. “ _Soongoden._ ” 

He shook his head. “Son Goten.”

“ _Soongotan._ ”

“No, it’s… just Goten. Goten.”

It clicked its teeth and let out a short hiss. “ _Gootin._ ”

“Eh, close enough,” he said, shrugging. He settled to sit again and leaned back to prop himself up with his arms. The creature rumbled low and tapped his chest, using its other hands to point at itself.

“ _Kraxeus bos Vu’Aurna._ ” 

“Uh…” Goten hesitated. “Kra...Krackseus boss.”

“ _Kraxeus bos Vu’Aurna,_ ” it repeated slower.

“Kraxeus...bosvu Arnor? Is Kraxeus your first name?” Goten said. 

“ _E ba yurna._ ” It tapped the floor with one of its hands and pat him on the head with another. “ _Shen’so ku, busu-busuna. We do te shas-vona_.” Goten looked at where it was tapping the floor and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you want me to sit by you?” He moved to sit there, but then the creature — Kraxeus — reached out and began to push him back, like it wanted him to lie down. It occurred to him that it must have thought the ki blast wore him out again.

“H-Hold on. I’m fine, I don’t need to...” Kraxeus clicked its teeth at him and continued to push him down until he was on his back. It ran one hand over his face, forcing him to close his eyes. “I’m really not tired, though.”

It ignored his protests, ran a hand over his face again when he opened his eyes, and pat him on the chest. Knowing this fight was definitely lost, Goten surrendered and kept his eyes closed. Wherever they were, wherever they were going, he could only hope that it was helping him. Or at the very least, he wasn’t going to wind up at its house as its new pet or whatever. Kami, he really hoped that wasn’t where this was leading.

 _I just have to find my dad and go home,_ he thought. Just as he began to drift off, however, he was startled awake by Kraxeus lightly tapping on his cheek.

“W-What?” he said, slightly dazed.

It clicked its teeth at him and lifted his arm, then tapped his wrist. At that moment, and only at that moment, did he realize that he was wearing the device Bulma had been working on. How could he have forgotten about it? He sat up slowly and stared at it.

The screen was lit up and a red light was blinking every few seconds with only a short pause in between. He had no idea what it meant, but he couldn’t help the feeling of hope that washed over him.

“Bulma! It’s Bulma!” he said, too excited to care that Kraxeus couldn’t understand him. “She probably figured out how to fix everything. I can finally find—”

That hope quickly vanished when he heard the sound of a distant roar. He and Kraxeus looked down the darkened hallway and found several glowing green eyes staring back at them.

“Oh, come _on_.”


	14. Bulma

“So, we won’t be able to go inside and get him while Eschalot’s with Goku, right?” Bulma asked, glancing in the girl’s direction. Eschalot’s eyes were closed as she sat cross-legged, looking more like someone meditating than someone who just willingly sent their consciousness into another realm. It was a part of the process, the voice had told them. But regardless, it was a bit unnerving how little she seemed to be breathing, or how utterly still she was.

The old man nodded and floated closer to her. She returned her gaze to the crystal, staring hard at the man inside. She’d managed to get through to Goten, but only barely — now, it was up to him to get himself out of there. But the voice was right about the dragon’s persistence; it had done wonders confusing his mind, from his sense of time to his fake children demanding his attention. Even now, she found herself scowling down at the avatar of her daughter as it chased after Goten, pulling him back when he needed to be going forward. 

“That’s such a dirty trick,” she said. “Using Bulla against him like that.”

“It is effective,” the voice said simply. “It knows the weaknesses of every man it finds.”

That only made her scowl deepen. She could see Goten faltering, could see the doubt in his face as he stared at the fake version of her daughter. If he didn’t go now, then the likelihood they’d be able to get him out only got worse. She wondered what was waiting for them with Trunks’ crystal. “What happens if he listens to it?”

The old man floated in front of her a moment and scratched its chin, then nodded thoughtfully. “Then the dragon will drain him and discard him quicker, to ensure you do not try a second time.”

It took a little bit of convincing until Goten finally realized what it was Bulma was trying to say. As close a resemblance as the dragon made its avatar look, it certainly wasn’t good enough to maintain the illusion for long once Bulma pushed Goten to connect the dots. Her eyes darted down toward the device on her wrist as he got closer to the gateway, and she put her fingers down on the buttons, ready to push when the time was right.

“You did great, Goten. Don’t worry, we’ll see you soon!” Bulma said. “Alright, now all I have to do is—” But as he stepped through, he abruptly vanished and the light on her device went out. She blinked at the crystal, then at the screen, then back to the crystal. “W-What..? Where’d he go? Did he come here?”

“Not exactly. It is in this realm, but not in this place.”

She looked around as if she’d be able to see him, but even the navigator on her device wasn’t picking up his location. “But I don’t see him anywhere…”

“It is in this realm. We did not say it was on this planet.”

Bulma’s jaw dropped. “ _What?!_ So, he’s out there on some other planet now?!”

“Yes. It is likely on one of the remote moons nearest the Inner Rim,” the old man said. “We do not know its exact location, of course.”

“Seriously? Ugh… what good are you?!” she said, exasperated. It puffed its cheeks up indignantly and scowled.

“We do not coddle you things! We are not your caretakers. You are the ones who claim to possess incredible technology! Surely you can find it yourself,” the old man said with a huff.

Bulma would have smacked it right there, but it floated closer to the crystal and waved a withered old hand over it, bringing the image of her daughter’s face back into the light. It hummed to itself and leaned forward so that it could inspect the image for a moment.

Bulma leaned closer too, curious at what it was apparently looking for. “What is it? Is the dragon still there?” 

“No, it departed from that realm once its meal did,” it said. “We were just… considering. You said this was your offspring? The mother of that child?”

She nodded and straightened again, crossing her arms as she did. “Yeah. I told you she was beautiful. She takes after _me,_ you know. If I was the same age as her, we’d be practically identical.”

“Hmph. Its looks are of no consequence, now that we have seen its path. For its reputation, we did not expect it to look so delicate, that is all.” 

That certainly piqued her interest. “Huh? You mean… you’ve seen her future?”

“We have seen its path,” the old man said. She took that to be a confirmation and hurried forward so she could stand in front of it.

“Listen, I know Eschalot isn’t supposed to tell me anything, but that doesn’t mean _you_ can’t, right? Tell me about this ‘path’… what happens? Why is Eschalot so afraid to talk about it? …Is my family okay?”

“Such selfish questions,” it said, tutting her. “Have you no curiosity beyond that? Have you no concern for your _planet?_ ”

Bulma wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. Part of her knew it was probably right — maybe she should’ve been more concerned with the whole world and not just her own family. At the same time, it was difficult to pretend that was really the case. She cared about the world, sure, but if the whole world came to an end except for the people she cared about… well, it was selfish, wasn’t it? But it was the truth.

“Just tell me about my family,” she said. “That’s all I need to know.”

It regarded her for a long while, scrutinizing her with a hard gaze before it wheeled around and motioned toward Eschalot. “Too bad! We have made a contract already. It does not wish us to tell its secrets.”

“Then why even offer?!” Bulma snapped, irritably. “What’s this contract all about anyway? I didn’t hear you talking about anything.”

“We do not require the same methods of communication you do,” it said. “We may communicate however we wish.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would—”

The old man groaned and held its head suddenly. “Oh, you talk too much! How does it stand its own voice?! So grating and irritating!” It sighed and wavered where it floated. “Promised a beautiful woman only to receive an old hag with saggy breasts and a foolish flat-chested girl! A punishment worse than eternal imprisonment… we wonder what we have done to deserve such cruelness?”

If this little guy thought that Bulma Briefs was about to stand there and let him insult her or her granddaughter like that, then it had another thing coming. She wasted no time in bringing an open hand down on the top of its head, which caused it to shriek, and she quickly grabbed the back of its cloak to yank it toward her. “Hey, _buddy!_ This is all your fault in the first place — you said so yourself! If it wasn’t for you and your greedy wishes then we wouldn’t be in this mess! You should be grateful we’re not holding you accountable, do you hear me?!”

It continued to shriek over her. “Unhand us! Unhand us this instant, vile hag!” 

“Not a chance!”

The yelling went on as the old man struggled to escape her grip and she continued to chastise it. Only the sound of a loud crack managed to bring them to a halt, and both looked over in time to see the crystal that housed Trunks had cracked right down the middle. Immediately Bulma dropped the old man and rushed to it, only to find that it had gone black the same way Goten’s had.

“What… what happened? Where’d Trunks go?” Bulma asked.

The old man waved a hand over the crystal once, then twice, and then both a third time, yet it still remained dark. “This is impossible. We do not believe…”

“What? Believe what? Where’s my son?!”

A thoughtful look crossed its face as it turned to look at Goten’s crystal. Bulma was about to slap it again, just to remind it that she wasn’t about to be ignored when it returned its gaze to her. “It escaped, using power we did not think possible.”

“So… he found his own way out?” Bulma repeated. At its nod, she smiled wide, unable to hold back the swell of pride that burst in her chest. “Ha! That’s definitely my son alright! As if he’d let himself stay trapped like that!”

The old man didn’t seem nearly as impressed as he should’ve been, though it kept glancing between Trunks’ crystal and Goten’s before it turned back toward Goku’s and floated over to it. Bulma followed close behind and took a moment to examine Eschalot. She still had her eyes closed, and her breathing seemed to have gotten slower, but otherwise nothing appeared to have changed.

“Any way to tell how close she is to saving Goku?” she asked.

“It only needs to look at the crystal to see,” the old man said. “But we expect it to fail. The dragon wants this one the most. It will not give it up so easily.”

“Hmph. Keep dreaming, pal. Goku’s a lot stronger than the dragon thinks, and I’m willing to bet Eschalot is too,” she said. She looked down at the crystal, but the image was obscured by something dark, like a black fog clouding it up. “Huh? What happened? I can’t see anything.”

The old man scoffed and shook its head. “Of course not! It is clouded because the girl has been discovered. The dragon will work extra hard to thwart its attempts.” It nodded in Eschalot’s direction, and when Bulma glanced at her, her eyes widened at the sight of blood trailing from her nose.

She moved closer but stopped herself from actually touching the girl. “Eschalot! What’s happening?”

“It is a threat to the dragon’s plans. It will fight back against all threats,” the old man said. “Do not be concerned. So long as it does not falter, it will not die.” That was all it said before it abruptly vanished in a cloud of black smoke, leaving her alone with the crystal and her granddaughter. Without being able to see exactly what was going on in Goku’s world, Bulma swallowed down her anxiety as best she could. 

_It’ll be alright,_ she told herself. _She’s Bulla and Goten’s daughter. There’s not even a single chance she'll fail._

But self-assurance only got so far. Alone with her thoughts, Bulma didn’t have much to distract herself with. Eventually, she managed to pull herself away from Eschalot’s side to examine Trunks’ broken crystal. The voice didn’t seem to care about her touching it, so she figured it wouldn’t care about her taking any samples of it either. At least, that’s what she told herself as she chipped away at a corner of it, letting the deep violet chunks fall into a small plastic container. When they made it back to her own time, she’d have to do more research on how exactly these things worked. 

Once that was done, she busied herself by walking along the room to examine the other crystals. She found that most of them were dark, and the thought that the dragon had claimed so many victims made her feel uneasy. The room stretched further into a narrow hallway, which she followed as well until she reached a second room smaller than the one before. Just like the room where they first encountered the voice, this one was circular with a pool sitting neatly in the center. The same hazy fog billowed lazily up from the water, curling into the air. As she moved closer, she could’ve sworn she heard whispering, although other than the slightly purplish color the water had taken on, it didn’t look too different from any other little pool she’d seen. Even so, the whispering continued.

“I can’t understand it, but it won’t stop,” Bulma muttered to herself as she drew near. “How strange… where are all those voices coming from, anyway?” She leaned over the side of the pool and stared down at the water. It rippled every now and again, starting from the center and going all the way out to the surrounding short stone wall. There seemed to be a specific pattern to the water’s movement — Bulma counted every four seconds to each small wave. And as she continued to stare at the water, it seemed the whispers grew louder and louder, until their words became more clear.

_‘Destroy… Queen… Catastrophe.’_

“Huh? Destroy… destroy the queen? What queen?” she said. 

_‘The cycle… parent and child… history.’_

Bulma strained her ears to hear more, leaning further over the pool in hopes that getting closer to the water would help. But as she did so, she lost her grip and slipped forward with a loud shriek, falling straight down toward the water only to be abruptly stopped before her face touched it.

The old man form had reappeared. It held her by the back of her suit and pulled her backward onto solid ground. “You must be more careful, foolish woman! The Sacred Water must not be disturbed.”

“Sacred Water..? You mean this stuff?” Bulma glanced at the pool once more. “I heard voices coming from it.”

“Hmph. Of course you did! The Sacred Water carries the knowledge of all things,” the old man huffed. “But to understand its wisdom takes a great deal of discipline, something one such as you could not even hope to—”

“I understood it just fine, thank you very much!” Bulma interrupted snappishly. “At least what I could hear anyway. It said something about a… a queen? And a cycle? Do you know what that’s about?”

The old man’s face blanched before it twisted into a scowl. “Ask no more questions.”

“But—”

“The child returns.”

With that, it turned and floated down the hallway to the room with the crystals. But Bulma hesitated a moment, looking back at the pool. Its whispers stuck with her, the same words repeating in her mind over and over. _What did it mean? What did any of it mean?_

Bulma debated silently with herself only for a moment before she quickly reached into one of the pockets on her suit and withdrew a plastic tube. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure the old man wasn’t looking, then slowly lowered the tube down to fill it with some of the Sacred Water. It wasn’t a lot, but it should’ve been enough for her to study it at least. As she replaced the cap, she noticed how it still seemed to emit that same fog, even sealed inside the container. Once she slid it back into her pocket, she returned to the room to find Eschalot holding her head with one hand and clutching the basin the crystal sat inside of with another. The blood above her lip seemed to have gone unnoticed.

“Eschalot! Are you alright?” Bulma asked, hurrying to the girl’s side.

“Y-Yeah, I think so,” she said. “I...I got Jiji out. H-He said to… he said to say hi.”

Bulma couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Of course he did. While you were in there, Trunks found his own way out, so we can get on with figuring out where they ended up!”

“Huh? His own way out? Is… is that even possible?” Eschalot asked, looking to the old man, who simply huffed and shook its head. “I thought you said—”

“Do not ask more questions, child,” it interrupted. “Follow us, in silence.” It floated past them and toward a sealed door. With a wave of its hands, the sides and seams of the door illuminated into a bright white light that faded as it opened slowly. Bulma took a glance at Eschalot as the girl got back to her feet and took a couple of shaky steps forward. She had half a mind to ask if she was feeling alright, but her granddaughter seemed to have gathered her strength enough to follow after the old man. They both fell in step not far behind it as it led them down a spiral staircase.

She would have been perfectly content to remain quiet as they went, but eventually it just seemed like an awful lot of stairs and little progress. Bulma’s knees felt weak by the time she finally came to a stop, allowing herself to catch her breath. Eschalot slowed and looked back at her curiously, though she too looked weary.

The old man gave a deep, tormented sigh. “Come, come! We have only a little time.”

“Give us a break, would you?! Unlike you, we don’t have the luxury of just floating everywhere,” Bulma said. “Where are you taking us, anyway?”

“Do you not grow tired of asking so many questions?” it snapped.

Bulma balled her fist and raised it up, though simply watching the old man flinch away was satisfying on its own. “Hey, we just want to make sure you’re not trying to screw us over!”

It put itself behind Eschalot, peering from behind her to point at Bulma accusingly as it squeaked indignantly. “We have done nothing but assist you, you who are trespassers in our sacred realm!”

“G-Grandma, they’ve helped us so far… I think if they were going to kill us, they would’ve done it by now,” Eschalot said, holding her hands up and smiling awkwardly. “Come on! I’m sure they’re going to show us how we can find everyone, right?”

“Indeed! We only wish to send you on your way faster,” it said, then nodded and huffed again. “Come, now! Our time grows shorter for every second you waste!”

It continued on ahead and Eschalot offered Bulma a small, reassuring smile before she followed after it. For her part, she knew she’d have to ignore the aching in her knees, and quietly lamented just how old she felt right then. Once upon a time, this would’ve been _nothing_ to her. But now it felt like her bones shook with every step. The further down they went, the heavier everything seemed to feel. _It must be my imagination,_ she thought. _Just the cost of getting older, I suppose._

“We are here,” the old man stopped and hovered a moment before it turned back to them. As far as she could tell, however, they were still on the winding staircase. Both she and Eschalot looked around and Bulma felt a twinge of anger rising in her chest.

“Are you kidding me? We’re still on the _stairs_ ,” she said through gritted teeth. “If you’re just messing with us, I swear…”

“Always doubt! Always question! _We_ question whether you will be strong enough to find your men after all!” It waved its hands as it spoke and the stairs melted away, revealing an empty void of black. At first, there was nothing, until a thousand stars began to appear in the distance all around them. Below their feet, the stone floor had turned to water, though neither she nor Eschalot sank beneath its surface. It rippled below her feet as she moved, and the surreality of it had seized her full attention.

“We have assisted you all that we can. From here, you are on your own.” It waved its hand and a light chirping sound emitted from the devices on their wrists. “We have given you the coordinates of the three most likely places you will find your men. The fighting pits of Kesaar; the pirates of Ero’Baas; and the fiery shores of the Endless Sea. Take heed that we do not advise attempting to reach the Endless Sea until it has become your absolute last resort.”

Bulma looked down at the screen on her wrist and pressed the button to bring up the map. It came to life immediately, showing two separate orbs and something that looked like a coin lying on its side. “These are other planets,” she said.

“Indeed. You are on the edge of this solar system,” it said.

She nodded and dismissed the screen. “Well, that figures. Just one question… how are we supposed to _get_ to any of those places? We didn’t exactly fly in on a spaceship.”

The old man waved its hand again and the floor rumbled below them. “A gift from our people, as compensation for passing our sins to you.”

Just then the floor rumbled again, and Bulma barely had enough time to look down when she was suddenly raised up into the air. At first, she thought she was being thrown, but she lost her footing and stumbled down to find a floor similar to the strange violet and blue stone from the outside. As she raised her head to look around, she noticed the nearby chairs and the control panel, as well as what looked to be a steering wheel of sorts.

“A ship! Now, _this_ is what I’m talking about,” she said, getting back to her feet. She moved to one of the seats and settled down in it, then laughed to herself and wiggled around in the chair. “Ooh! And such nice seating, too! You sure know how to spoil us girls. Though that _is_ only appropriate given how much you owe us.”

As expected, the old man popped into existence before her with a flustered, angry flourish. “Owe you?! Such rudeness! Not a whiff of gratitude! Perhaps we ought to rescind our generous gift to teach you a lesson!”

Bulma smiled a sickly sweet smile and put her hands together under her chin. “But then who would you turn to to help you atone for those sins of yours, hmm? Just admit it! We’re your best hope for atonement and you know it!”

It gave a great blustering noise as its cheeks and chest puffed up with what she could only assume was frustration. A loud popping noise followed by a black cloud of smoke marked its disappearance, and a see-through hood manifested over their heads. When the voice returned, it was far calmer than it had been with the old man’s form.

“We wish you great fortune, O wanderers,” it said. “For you will need it more than you know.”

At that, the ship hummed to life — a dozen lights came on at once, illuminating the interior with a soft purple glow. Bulma couldn’t help but stare out at the black void as it seemed to split open slightly, like a curtain being drawn back to reveal a stage. Beyond the black came the deep violets, bright greens, and warm oranges of a wider galaxy. The sea of stars looked impossibly closer than she’d ever seen before, and for a moment, it was all she could do to marvel at the sight.

“We should get going.” Bulma tore her gaze away to watch Eschalot move for the pilot seat and settle into it. “I think we should go to Kesaar and check out those fighting pits first!”

“Good idea. It sure sounds like the kind of place you’d find a Saiyan,” Bulma agreed. But the more she watched Eschalot push buttons like it was second nature to her, the more curious she became until she could no longer ignore it. “You know, even I have to take a minute to figure out how to pilot a spaceship. Not that that’s very long, mind you!”

Eschalot paused and gave an awkward, nervous laugh. “I-I guess I take after you more than I thought!”

“Nice try,” Bulma said with a small laugh. She leaned back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. There’s a reason they made it look like this — you’ve been in one of these before, haven’t you?”

There was another mumbled attempt at an excuse, but it didn’t make it very far before the girl sighed and nodded. “Y-Yeah… I have. The controls actually look identical to the kind of ship I’m used to being in.”

“So you’ve been to space before?” Bulma asked, leaning forward. It was obvious that Eschalot still had her reservations about revealing too much about the future, but even the smallest hints at what was in store for them was better than nothing. 

“That’s… yeah. We’re in space a lot.

“I knew it! I bet you learned how to fly from yours truly, didn’t you?”

“Um, papa taught me, actually,” Eschalot said. She turned her attention back to the controls and piloted them beyond the black curtain. Before Bulma had a chance to prod her for more information, Eschalot shook her head. “Sorry, grandma. I _really_ shouldn’t say anything else. I could wind up messing with your timeline even more than I already have. That’s why the Supreme Kai of Time didn’t want me telling you who I was from the start.”

 _Well, I guess I expected that,_ Bulma thought as she nodded her understanding. When she glanced back over her shoulder, she was surprised to see there wasn’t a single sign of where they’d just come from. Then again, it made sense. That voice had seemed pretty surprised they’d found their way there in the first place. They’d been silent for a few minutes before her thoughts drifted back to what the voice had said about the dragon.

“Say, Eschalot…” she began. The girl looked back at her curiously and Bulma held her chin while she thought. “They said that we’d be taking a piece of the dragon with us, right? Shouldn’t we be worried about that?”

“I guess so, but… I don’t see what we could possibly do about it,” she said. “The dragon… it was in my head while I was in Jiji’s crystal. I think as long as we don’t listen to it, we’ll be fine.”

“What?! In your head? As in, reading your thoughts and talking to you?” Bulma repeated and then shuddered when Eschalot nodded. “How the hell are we supposed to fight that?”

“It preys on your greatest weakness and uses it against you, so as long as you remember that that’s what it’s doing and you don’t let yourself be manipulated, you’ll be fine,” Eschalot said. “Besides, it can’t stay there forever. It’s strong, but it takes a lot of energy to project itself like that. A lot of the times it’s just a matter of waiting it out.”

“Oh, that’s just _too_ creepy,” Bulma said. “I’m guessing that wasn’t the first time you’ve dealt with it.” It wasn’t a question, and the sideways glance her granddaughter shot her was enough confirmation without the girl saying anything.

“It’ll take a few days to get to Kesaar,” Eschalot said instead of elaborating any further. She pressed a few buttons and pushed the chair back away from the control panel. “As long as we keep a low-profile we shouldn’t run into any trouble. I’m gonna go take a shower and get some sleep! Plus, I’m totally starving.”

“Go get cleaned up and I’ll put something together,” Bulma said, withdrawing the pack of capsules she’d brought. She smiled fondly as Eschalot nodded happily and hurried off to find the showers. It was difficult not to notice all the ways she reminded her of Bulla, despite how much she resembled Goten. The thought made her chest ache slightly as she wondered how her daughter was doing. Leaving hadn’t been easy, especially knowing how badly her daughter needed her, even if she never would’ve admitted it herself. But what she was doing now was too important. As much as Bulla needed her, she needed Goten far more, and so did Eschalot.

She’d just reached what looked to be a little lounge area when the sound of something clattering to the ground caught her attention. The plastic tube she’d filled with the Sacred Water rolled a few feet before she managed to stop it with her foot, and she bent to pick it up.

“Huh… I totally forgot about this,” she said to herself. She turned the tube over in her hand and watched as the water spilled from one end to the other, yet managed to look still somehow. Bulma frowned slightly at it. That voice had made it seem like it was dangerous, but it certainly didn’t _seem_ very dangerous. How dangerous could water be, anyway?

With her mind made up, she popped open a capsule and began unpacking the kitchen essentials she’d brought along. She decided that Eschalot could probably handle warming her own rice and noodles, and took one of the empty dishes with her to the next room. It was a pleasant surprise to see just how large the ship seemed to be, given the set of bunk beds and little seating area. She settled into one of the chairs and set the dish down on the table in front of it, then carefully poured the water out into it. Within just a few seconds, that purple fog began to spill out over the sides of the dish, and the rippling effect from the pool it came from replicated itself there too. Unlike before, however, there were no whispers.

“Hmm… I wonder if it’s because of the crystals,” Bulma muttered. She dug through her pocket to retrieve the plastic container that held the shards of the crystal and dumped it out onto the table beside the dish. But nothing seemed to happen and Bulma felt the anticipation and excitement fleeing from her quickly.

“What a bust,” she said with a sigh. She’d just resolved to put everything away when she heard it — low at first, then louder with each passing moment. Bulma leaned closer to the water, turning her head to hear better.

_‘Destroy… Queen… Catastrophe.’_

It was the same as before, except this time Bulma wouldn’t be interrupted. “What does that mean? What queen? What catastrophe?”

 _‘Queen… of…’_ But the whispers trailed out, became jumbled together and unintelligible. Bulma scowled and moved closer, her ear hovering just above the water, so close that she could practically feel the misty fog against her skin.

“Queen of what?! Finish what you were saying!”

_‘Queen… of… Saiyans.’_

_Queen of Saiyans?_ Bulma’s brow furrowed and she frowned in confusion. A small gasp drew her attention away and she looked up at Eschalot’s startled expression.

“Wh-Where did you get that?” she asked, almost as if frightened.

“The… it was from that cavern with the crystals,” Bulma said. “Eschalot… Eschalot, who is it talking about? Who’s the Queen?”

Eschalot stared at the dish with a hardened gaze. Just going by that look, Bulma felt she already knew the answer. What she didn’t know is what that had to do with everything else the whisper had said, and she had to be _sure_ she knew who it was before she could even start grilling Eschalot about the rest. Finally, Eschalot stepped inside. Her hair was damp from her shower, and the clothing she wore appeared similar to the type Vegeta wore under his armor. It seemed she’d removed her metal arm, which only served to draw attention to the scars on her left side. So distracted by the sight that Eschalot had crossed the room and abruptly snatched up the dish before Bulma could react.

“W-Wait, Eschalot!” she called after her as the girl headed down the hall. “Eschalot, _wait!_ Answer my question!”

“Grandma, I-I’m sorry, but… but it’s better if you don’t know!” Eschalot said. While she seemed to move with purpose, her voice cracked to reveal a vulnerability Bulma hadn’t been expecting. “I… I have to fix it on my own. It’s all my fault, so… so it’s my mistake to fix. You can’t interfere, okay?!”

“I don’t want to interfere! Just let me _help you_ , Eschalot, we can do whatever it is together,” she pleaded. But her pleas fell on deaf ears, and she gasped when the girl unceremoniously dumped the contents of the dish down a drain. “Wait!”

“I’m sorry, grandma, but this is how it has to be,” Eschalot said. “The Sacred Waters are too dangerous to keep so close anyway. The dragon will be drawn to its power.” She dropped the dish down into the sink and turned to leave, but Bulma reached out to take her hand and stop her.

“Eschalot, hold on,” she said. “Just… just tell me. The queen… that’s Bulla, isn’t it? She becomes the Saiyan queen, doesn’t she?”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Eschalot reluctantly nodded. “Y-Yes.”

“But Vegeta… he’s the prince. He would’ve become the king if…”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence. The look on Eschalot’s face was enough, and it alone seemed to drive a knife through her chest. Bulma released the girl’s hand slowly and took a step back, clutching her hand to her chest as her eyes welled with tears. _No… not Vegeta too._

“Grandma… I’m gonna stop it from happening,” Eschalot whispered. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”


	15. Eschalot

_“Ow, ow, ow! Papa, that’s not fair!”_

_“I’m sorry, Sprout, but I told you this was gonna be a lot harder. I can’t just let you win.”_

_Eschalot was frustrated. Everything hurt. Her ribs, her legs, and now her tail too. Papa had been so mean ever since they got to the arena. She started the day off excited to train; now that she was four, he’d finally agreed to train her as one of the big kids. And at first, it_ was _fun, until none of her punches and kicks were doing anything to him. He either blocked or vanished every time she tried to hit him. She was already growing more and more frustrated the longer it went on, but once he grabbed her tail and used it to spin her around so quickly that it made her dizzy, she’d had enough. She flung herself to the other side of the arena as far away from him as she could go to get away._

_“Sprout… Eschalot, come on, don’t give up! You can do it, just keep at it.”_

_“No, papa! You’re not being fair!” she insisted. Her eyes were burning and her cheeks were wet, but she quickly rubbed her face into her sleeved arm. It didn’t do anything to stop the flow of tears, try as she might, and in the end, she plopped down onto the ground and sniffled as she clutched her tail. “Not fair…”_

_“Sprout… hey, come on,” he said with a gentle tone. He stepped forward but she stuck her tongue out and turned away from him. Just as he began to say something else, another voice cut him off._

_“Quit your whining, Eschalot.”_

_She looked up to see her mother standing near the edge of the platform with her arms folded. Her pretty blue hair was tied into a braid that hung over her shoulder, and her red and black armored outfit suggested she’d just returned from one of her big room meetings where Eschalot was never allowed. As her mother floated up onto the platform and walked toward her, Eschalot’s bottom lip quivered weakly and she released her tail to reach out for her._

_“M-Mama,” she whimpered. Normally, she would’ve tried to be strong, especially while training since her mother rarely came to watch and rarely said anything while she did. But she wanted comfort of some kind and if anyone could put papa in his place, it was Mom. It was always Mom. “Mama, Papa’s not being fair! H-He grabbed my tail and he spun me! It hurt, b-but he didn’t stop w-when I told him to!”_

_Instead of yelling at Papa, her mother walked over and crouched down in front of her so she could look her in the eyes. By the stern expression she had, Eschalot expected for a moment that she might actually be the one in trouble, but to her surprise, her mother simply sighed and leaned in to kiss her forehead. It was such an unusually open display of affection that it made Eschalot forget about the ache radiating from her ribs and backside. She quickly moved in for a hug, to take advantage of the offered affection and climb into her mother’s arms to be held for a while, only to be met with a curt rejection. Her mother pushed her back and reached down to hold her hand._

_“Listen up. It’s time you understood something very, very important,” her mother said firmly._

_Eschalot’s eyes widened slightly. “W-What is it?”_

_“Something I had to learn the hard way,” her mother said. “Eschalot… no one cares about what’s fair. Just like no one cares who followed the rules the best or who fought the nicest. They only care about who was strong enough to survive and who lived to talk about it. You’re very strong, but you need to learn how to use that strength. That’s why this has to be so hard, and why we can’t be very nice right now. You got it?”_

_Eschalot sniffled. Her eyes darted back to her father standing on the other side of the arena. He’d remained where he was, but when he caught her gaze he smiled warmly at her. She supposed her tail didn’t hurt all that bad, and she could never really stay mad at him for long anyway. “But...but papa...”_

_“Papa did exactly what you’re supposed to when you’re being attacked, except you’re holding back and he isn’t,” her mother said firmly, putting a finger on Eschalot’s lips to quiet her. The jeweled bracelet on her wrist jingled as she moved her hand to touch the side of Eschalot’s small face, using her thumb to brush the tear away from her bruised cheek. “Look at me. Papa and I aren’t always going to be there. When someone is trying to kill you, they’re not going to stop just because you tell them to — you have to make sure you kill them first. You have to do whatever you can to survive. Be faster, be stronger, be smarter, or you’ll die.”_

_“Okay… I-I’ll try,” Eschalot said, shifting uncomfortably. Her mother seemed to sense her unease._

_“You want to be as strong as me and papa, don’t you? Then you have to trust us.” Her mother stood and pulled Eschalot to her feet abruptly, moving behind her so they could both look at her father. “Ready, Goten?”_

_“Yep! Come on, Sprout. Let’s show mom what you’ve learned, huh?” he called back, throwing a fist up into the air._

_Eschalot couldn’t help but giggle. Her mother bent to adjust her training armor, then guided Eschalot’s tail to wrap around her waist while she continued to speak. “Keep your tail here so he can’t grab it again. Remember, Eschalot: he’s not your papa right now. He’s your opponent, so you need to fight him as if your life depends on it. No more holding back from now on, do you understand? Next time you throw a fit, he’s not going to stop — got that, Goten?!”_

_Papa’s smile wavered and he nodded seriously, and she swallowed hard. He hadn’t been very nice when he grabbed her tail earlier and she knew he’d do it again if she let him, especially with mom watching now. A rush of uncertainty flooded her the more she thought about it. “Y-Yes. But… mama, papa’s bigger than me,” Eschalot said, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice. “I-I can’t beat him.”_

_“He’s bigger than me too and I beat him all the time,” her mother dismissed. It did nothing to ease her worry, even as her mother tightened the straps on Eschalot’s boots, which were still slightly too large for her, then moved on to adjusting her chest plate._

_Eschalot’s frown deepened. “You’re really strong. Can… can you help me? Just this once?”_

_“Enough, Eschalot. You’re going to fight him alone and you’re going to win. No excuses.”_

_She’d exhausted her mother’s sympathy it seemed, and now she had no choice but to do as she was told. Her mother’s fingers brushed through her hair, bunching it all up into a ponytail on the top of her head, while Eschalot watched her father go through some stretches he usually only did when he sparred with tougher opponents._

_“No excuses,” she repeated to herself quietly. But just as she tried to step forward, her mother held her back and leaned down to give her another kiss on the side of her head._

_“Don’t hold back,” her mother reminded her. She lingered there a moment longer before she whispered, “Aim for his knees.”_

_Eschalot smiled brightly as her mother nudged her forward. Later, as her father limped awkwardly out of the training room with her perched on his shoulders and she happily recounted their fight, she could’ve sworn she caught her mother smiling too._

Eschalot stared up at the underside of the top bunk above her. Her grandmother was sound asleep, if her quiet, steady breaths were anything to go by. It’d been hours since they got on the ship, and while they couldn’t be sure of what time it really was, there certainly wasn’t any denying that they were both exhausted.

Even so, she found it difficult to find any rest — her mind was too preoccupied with the realities she’d seen in her father’s and Jiji’s crystals. The dragon didn’t pull a single punch with either of them, and that alone worried her. His life seemed so idyllic, so _perfect_. She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to resist that kind of temptation herself. Somewhere in her own head, she could still hear it trying to whisper to her, reaching out from the edges of her mind and imploring her to listen.

But she ignored it like she always did, the way her parents taught her to. She wondered briefly if Jiji and her grandma were capable of doing the same, though the thought only served to worry her.

She sighed and rolled over to pick up her pants from the floor. A moment later and she returned to lay on her back, this time holding a jeweled bracelet in her hand. Even in the dark, it shimmered slightly, giving off its own faint glow. The deep violet crystals were set in intricate silver knots that wrapped around each one delicately, elegant and beautiful just like its usual wearer. It’d been made for her mother specifically, not long after she had been crowned queen, and there was hardly a day when Eschalot saw her without it. 

At the thought, she clutched the bracelet a little tighter and closed her eyes. It was difficult thinking about the things that led her to this point, most especially when it came to her mother. She thought she’d found her purpose in life with the Time Patrol. Traveling through space and time, dealing with Supreme Kais and alternate futures, and catching glimpses of her family’s past had all been like a dream once. Now, it was a nightmare where she was constantly forced to choose between her family and the Time Patrol. She knew she wasn’t supposed to even be in that position, that it was her fault in the first place. Chronoa hadn’t been happy, but… she had to try, right? She just wanted to save everyone.

 _Destroy. Queen of Saiyans._ She closed her eyes and sighed again.

All that thinking must have gotten to her, though. Weariness finally began seeping its way into her bones, settling so deeply that she didn’t even try to fight against it. She brought her hand down to rest on her chest, with the bracelet still in her grasp. As she began to drift into a restless sleep, the last thing she thought of was her mother. 

“I’ll fix everything soon,” she muttered sleepily to herself. “I swear I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little teaser for what’s to come! Or maybe what’s to be avoided? 👀
> 
> Another huge thanks to GrammarGrrrl and all the help she’s provided, basically since I started this whole series. Without her, I’d probably be lost and far more grammatically incorrect than I already am! 💕


	16. Gohan

Bardock paced in a circle, his boots leaving behind a trail in the grass as he did. Not ten miles away were thousands of Frieza’s men lying in wait, stretched across the mountain that sat between them and Central City. The group spotted them just in time to duck down into the thick forests below and hide their power levels, but in doing so they were forced to remain grounded. They’d called ahead using their scouters, alerting whoever was on the other end of their predicament. Two of Bardock’s team members had gone on ahead looking for an alternate pathway, and it seemed his patience wore thinner every hour they were gone.

As for Gohan, he remained sitting near the base of a tree, his legs crossed over one another as he kept his breathing steady. It probably didn’t count as actually meditating when he kept one eye open enough to watch the Saiyans around him, but at least this way they were content to leave him be while they fidgeted.

“We could fight our way through them,” Fasha suggested, not for the first time. She seemed more eager to move on than any of them, although Bardock didn’t seem to acknowledge her. She spoke up again, more clearly this time. “I doubt they’re even smart enough to realize we’re here. We’d get the jump on them right away...”

“Just be alerting them to our presence,” Bardock said irritably. He looked out in the direction Shugesh and Tora had gone and shook his head. “No one’s supposed to know we’re even out here.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit on our hands like _cowards?_ ”

Her words seemed to strike a nerve for Bardock. In an instant, he’d gone from quietly irritated to openly furious. “You callin’ _me_ a coward, Fasha?” At her silence, he continued. “We got our orders from the king: stay out of sight and get him back unscathed.”

“We should’ve destroyed that city too while we were there,” she said. Gohan kept silent, but his jaw tensed at her words. “To teach them a lesson.”

“No use killing a bunch of defenseless humans,” Bardock said. “Anyway, that’s not what the king sent us there for.”

Fasha fell silent, but Gohan felt her gaze turn to him. She seemed to debate with herself whether or not to approach him, just as she had done several times now, but in the end, she merely scoffed and walked away. For his part, Gohan remained still and quiet, counting the seconds between his breaths just as someone he once knew used to do. Who that someone was, Gohan wasn’t sure — he only knew that he knew them and that this is what they used to do. _Keep your breaths even, Gohan,_ their voice reminded him. _But don’t let your guard down._ After enough time had passed that the Saiyans had calmed again, Gohan fully reopened his eyes and returned his gaze to the pacing man.

_The energy back at Bells Village had to have been dad’s… but how? Why?_ Gohan wondered, his lips curving into a slight frown. _It wasn’t Goku. It was Cell._ He still wasn’t clear on who or what Cell was, other than the fact Krillin nearly jumped out of his own skin at the mention. _Lots of names and faces to remember._ Bardock’s pacing resumed, and as he passed by Gohan, his thoughts shifted. _And this guy…_

Despite the day and a half he’d spent with Bardock, the resemblance he shared with Son Goku continued to be disarming. Every time he looked at him it sent a flood of memories through his mind; brief flashes of warm smiles turned to blood-stained orange clothes and flashing lights that consumed the entire sky. And of course, the memory of what he’d felt near Bells Village stayed with him as well, serving as a reminder of something he was supposed to be doing.

“So what’s your deal?” Bardock had stopped his pacing and leaned against a nearby tree. His voice was low and quiet, but not so much that Gohan had trouble hearing him. So, when he was met with silence, he raised his voice just slightly. “Everyone’s after you. The way they talk makes it seem like you’re the most important person on this planet. Gotta be a reason for it… can’t just be because of Kakarot.” 

_Plenty of reasons. Just need to figure out which one it is for the king,_ Gohan thought. _Maybe he wants revenge. Or he wants to play at being Frieza._ Yet despite those thoughts coming to mind, Bardock was met with more silence. _Doesn’t matter how much he looks like dad. He’s a loyal Saiyan, first and foremost._ Eventually, Bardock’s gaze shifted away from Gohan and he let out an irritated scoff. 

“Hey, boss!” The two men looked up to see Shugesh flying back toward them, Tora not far behind him. Fasha returned just as they landed, joining Bardock at his side while Gohan opted to merely observe. “We scouted ahead like you said, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Bardock folded his arms. He certainly didn’t look very pleased already. “What is it?”

“Scouter counted almost ten thousand gathered in some old village. They’ve got it locked down, but it doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere else,” Shugesh said. “Seems like they’re waiting for something.”

“How far from the city are they?” Fasha asked. “They may be trying to plan a surprise attack.”

Tora shook his head. “No. They’re too far out for that.”

His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her. “Then what would they be waiting for?”

_Good question,_ Gohan thought. _And if they’re not waiting for anyone, then what are they doing?_ But he kept his thoughts to himself, as usual. It wouldn't do any good to speculate anyway. When no one had an answer for Fasha, it only spurred her to press on. “We should just destroy them here and now before they try anything.”

“You heard what Tora said. They’re too far out to matter,” Shugesh said. “But I _am_ itchin’ for a little action. Been a couple days since we last saw any.”

“Maybe our friend here will indulge us in some sparring later,” Tora added. Three sets of eyes turned Gohan’s way as if expecting him to provide an answer. Before he could — not that he planned to, honestly — Bardock stepped away to look off in the direction of the enemy forces.

“Our only goal is getting back to the city. We’ll go around and keep low to the ground,” he said. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and he glanced back to his team. “But I’m sure we can make a trip back here and clean up the mess.”

The compromise seemed to appeal to his team. With that, they were on the move again, silently running at speeds too fast to be spotted by any normal eyes yet keeping low enough to the ground that they had almost little chance of being spotted. Fasha led the way with Bardock not far behind, while Gohan was flanked by Tora and Shugesh. Occasionally he felt them look his way as if half-expecting him to turn heel or attack them. Truthfully, Gohan had already counted a dozen or so opportunities to get away — those two weren’t nearly as vigilant as they would have Bardock believe. And while it _would_ give him the chance to find Korin and Yajirobe and get them to safety, it would also mean risking South City the wrath of a scorned king with an army of Saiyans… and maybe Bulla’s life, if Marron was telling the truth. 

So he didn’t make a move, at least not yet. _Take it slow. See what’s really going on._ It was worth playing out at least a little more of Marron’s plan if only to find out the truth. If Bulla really was pregnant with Goten’s child, then she might’ve been at even greater risk than either she or Marron could know. Something told Gohan as much, something somewhere in the back of his mind, which meant Yajirobe and Korin would have to wait. Keeping the Saiyans unaware of them or the senzu beans was probably the best option available to them anyway. The last thing the world needed right now was an army of bloodthirsty Saiyans with the ability to heal instantly.

They stopped to rest at the abandoned ruins of a village late into the evening. Only two capsule homes were intact enough to be of any use, with the rest too destroyed to shield them from any prying eyes that might fly over. From their position, they were close enough to see the lights of the occupied village off in the distance. Gohan felt the low buzz of the energy of the thousands-strong army there in the back of his mind, something he was sure the others could sense even if they were only paying half-attention. Despite that, none of the Saiyans seemed especially interested; Shugesh tossed each of them and Gohan what looked to be some kind of vacuum-sealed meat. He ate in silence while the others spoke in hushed tones to one another, and at one point Fasha elected to scout the army a second time.

“Shugesh, Tora. Go check the area. Make sure we weren’t followed by anyone,” Bardock said once she’d gone. Shugesh promptly did as he was told, but Tora remained behind.

“What about… him,” he said, nodding to Gohan. Bardock cast a quick glance in his direction and shook his head.

“I’ll keep watch,” he said. “I’m sure he understands the situation he’s in.” Tora left as well, leaving just Bardock and Gohan. It didn’t take long for the other man to take another swing at speaking to Gohan. 

“Prince Vegeta knew where you were the whole time, didn’t he?” At least this time, he didn’t seem to expect an answer from Gohan, so he continued. “I figured as much. When they told us not to say anything to him about finding you, the pieces fell together. That’s probably why Tollash is keeping him busy… gives us the time we need to get you back to the king while he’s none the wiser.”

_So they don’t trust him either,_ Gohan thought. _No one trusts anyone, that’s nothing new. But why tell me?_ He knew Bardock was still watching him, his black eyes trained on him, studying. _What are you looking for?_

As if he could read his mind, Bardock pressed on. “We want to put an end to Frieza and his men just as much as you do. Be a lot easier if you worked with us instead of against us.”

While Gohan didn’t exactly trust the man, he also hadn’t been given much reason to doubt the earnestness in his voice. At the very least, he believed that Bardock believed what he was saying, and that counted for at least something in his book. Not enough to stir any response out of him, naturally, but that wasn’t a problem for long with Fasha rushing back to them and abruptly ending the one-sided conversation.

“Bardock! We have a problem!” 

“What is it? Are they on the move?” Bardock asked, tearing his attention away from Gohan. She shook her head and pointed back the way she came, toward the village the Forces had gathered in.

“No — but you need to see this,” she said, urgency clear in her voice. Bardock looked to Gohan, who replied with a wordless nod, and the two followed Fasha.

The closer they got to the village, the more that feeling from before buzzed in the back of his mind, until it eventually became more of a low, persistent hum. It was strong enough to make his skin crawl. Once they were close enough to see the village more clearly, the reason for Fasha’s alarm became obvious. The Forces soldiers weren’t merely stationed there… they were constructing something. Two massive pylons stood on either side of the village, connected by thick black wires. It looked as though the Forces were the only people in the village, and given how late it was, likely that the bulk of them had gone to sleep, meaning more were almost certainly simply out of sight.

“What is it? Some kind of weapon?” Bardock muttered under his breath.

“We should destroy it now,” Fasha said. “Before they get a chance to use it on us.”

Gohan continued examining the pylons. Something somewhere in the very back of his mind was urging him to keep away… as if he knew what they were and what they did, but the words never explicitly came to him. No explanation arose. Bardock and Fasha set about discussing their plan of attack, but Gohan was too busy trying to force himself to remember whatever it was he knew about those things. _Just get away,_ a voice whispered. _And stay very far away._

Shugesh and Tora rejoined them not long after, prompted by Bardock’s alert through the scouter. Gohan watched them plan while they paid him no mind, debating with himself whether or not to share his thoughts. Part of him hoped they wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack so many Force soldiers outright, but when it became clear that that seemed to be exactly where their plan was going, he knew he couldn’t just sit by and let it happen.

“Hold on,” he said. All eyes turned to him at that moment, with varying degrees of surprise and interest. But now that he had their undivided attention, the problem remained that he wasn’t even sure what to say to persuade them. _Just stay away from those pylons._ “Something’s not right. We should move along, keep heading for Central City.”

He’d had a feeling they’d be skeptical, so when Tora gave a dismissive scoff and redirected his attention to Bardock, he wasn’t overly surprised. “The king will understand if we delay so we can take care of this. He promised to set your family up for good for delivering him… imagine what he’ll reward you if we take care of this before they have a chance to use it against us!”

Fasha and Shugesh agreed, but Gohan kept his eyes on Bardock, who seemed indecisive himself. Only a few moments passed before he let out a breath and nodded in Gohan’s direction. “We’re not risking going against direct orders on a hunch. The king made it clear what our goal was, and you know what happens when we disobey.” He uncrossed his arms and moved forward to get a better look at the village, then glanced back over his shoulder at them. “Besides… we can always come back. If they think they can build a weapon strong enough to provide a challenge, then let ‘em. We’re Saiyans. What chance do they have against _us?_ ”

_Spoken like a dead man walking,_ Gohan thought while the others smirked and laughed amongst themselves. _Underestimating the lengths Frieza will go to is what doomed you all before, wasn’t it?_ He returned his gaze to the pylons and the ominous sparking from the power tools the soldiers were using. Still, no matter how hard he stared, no matter how deep he tried to dig in his own mind, it was like something kept him from remembering why he felt almost _afraid_ of them. It was as if the memory itself was shrouded in fog, hidden away to keep him from uncovering it. Eventually, the group left, keeping a low profile again and avoiding several patrols along their path.

But that feeling… that low buzz of power radiating from the back of his mind to the tips of his fingers… it never left.

They approached Central City near dawn, with the first rays of sunlight beginning to stretch across a grey sky. The weather had turned much colder through the night, enough that all of them except Gohan shivered despite themselves. As soon as they were within walking distance, Tora and Shugesh grabbed Gohan’s arms again to escort him appropriately. Dozens of eyes watched them as they walked through the street and whispers followed, but once more Saiyans came into view and seemed to realize what was going on, the whispers and quiet chatter turned to cheers for Bardock and his team, and sneers in Gohan’s direction.

_They really don’t like me,_ he thought. _I’m sure there’s a good reason for that. If I’m not careful, this could get ugly pretty fast._

Like everywhere else, Central City had changed significantly in the years following Frieza’s victory. Gohan vaguely recalled a time when he came here before, yet it was hard to pinpoint those memories too. The further into the city they got, the more pronounced the changes became, aided especially by how the Saiyans seemed to have made themselves at home. Several stalls selling smoked meat and offering armor repairs lined the streets and a mix of Saiyans and humans walked around freely, pausing only to watch him and his escort walk by. A shadow crossed over them as they walked and Gohan looked up to watch the massive ship hovering over them. There were several Saiyans gathered on one side, working away at repairing what looked like several layers of bent and twisted metal.

_Someone tried to kill Bulla,_ he recalled and frowned to himself at the thought. _Must’ve been a close call… that’s a lot of damage._

“At attention!” Bardock’s voice abruptly shattered Gohan’s thoughts. He looked ahead to see a line of Saiyans standing on each side of a platform leading up to the tall building. Inside, it looked as though it had once been where the previous king of Earth must have resided a lifetime ago. Red and black banners hung from the walls with a black carpet leading them down the end of a long hallway. There were significantly fewer Saiyans inside, and the ones that were there seemed only vaguely curious about their presence. At one point, Bardock led them to a tall doorway and said something to one of the guards posted there, who turned to lead them through. 

It felt as if the air itself changed once they stepped into the room. Tora and Shugesh both straightened and even forced Gohan to do the same. From around Bardock’s bulky frame, the king came into view — standing at the head of a long glass table, he looked nearly identical to Vegeta, with a goatee and strands of grey the main things that really set the two apart. Yet despite all the armor he wore, Gohan could still see the cracks, the frailty that was carefully hidden from view. _You look good for a dying man,_ Gohan found himself thinking. A morbid thought, but knowing what he knew… _Wonder how long you’ve got left._

“My king,” Bardock said as they approached. He got to one knee and bowed his head, Fasha following suit while Shugesh and Tora merely lowered themselves only slightly, forcing Gohan to do the same. “At your request, we present Son Gohan. It was our honor to find and bring him to you.”

“I’m impressed, Bardock,” the king said. Without having to see his face, Gohan could tell that Bardock was brimming with pride. “Yes… very good. You can release him.”

A thin man stepped forward at that, moving to stand next to the king and bowing quickly before he spoke. “Your Highness, with all due respect, I would strongly advise _against_ this course of action. It would be wise to ensure he is well-restrained.”

“There are several of us and one of him. Even if he were to attack us, I am certain we would be more than capable of dealing with him. Release him.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation then. Tora and Shugesh looked at Gohan curiously, as though they were looking at him for the first time, then released him and stepped away. Silence fell in the room. It seemed as though everyone was holding their breath, and for the first time, Gohan wasn’t quite sure how to take that. It was one thing for Marron to be afraid of him, to walk on eggshells and keep an eye on him at all times — it was quite another to have a race of warriors watching him like he was a wild animal. The only person who didn’t stare at him that way was the king, who instead regarded him with only mild interest.

“I presume this means the human woman upheld her end of the bargain,” the king said, breaking the tension with ease. “Rottece, see to it that Tollash holds the prince’s attention a while longer. There’s still the other matter we need to sort out before he returns.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the thin man — Rottece, Gohan assumed — said with another bow. He made for the exit quickly, barely sparing Gohan a second glance as he went. The king’s gaze followed Rottece as he went, then it returned to Gohan. At a gesture, three guards exited the room as well, leaving only Bardock and his team, and the king and Gohan, left in the room.

“I hear South City has done well for itself. My men have told me it’s well-defended, for a human settlement,” the king said idly. While his tone suggested a desire for casual discussion, Gohan suspected his intentions were far more than that. He did not answer, though the king didn’t seem to mind. “Bardock, would you agree?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Bardock said, standing a little straighter. “But we noticed a new construction at a nearby Forces command post.”

The king raised an eyebrow. “Weapons?”

“It’s unclear, sire…” Bardock looked in Gohan’s direction, yet seemed to change his mind on something. “We also spotted several patrols heading south. Figure it won’t be long before they try to attack again. My team and I are ready to head back right away.”

It didn’t escape Gohan that Bardock intentionally left him out of the information about the pylons, though it did surprise him. The king didn’t seem to notice or care and instead waved his hand dismissively. “No. I want you and your team back at North City by tonight. There, you will establish a secondary base and maintain control of the city and the surrounding villages. Nappa and his team will join you in three days’ time.”

_Trying to conquer major cities quickly, just like Frieza did._ It wasn’t a bad plan, but he had a hard time imagining Saiyans doing anything that wasn’t mindless razing and killing. _It only makes sense if they’ve decided to make earth their home._

Bardock didn’t seem as interested in that detail, however. “King Vegeta, South City... if we leave them—”

“Commander Chigo will turn his attention to the south while we secure the north,” the king finished. “Which will grant us more time to establish a stronger front and weed out the traitors. If, and only if, South City manages to survive, then we will consider opening further negotiations.”

Gohan was careful not to react, not to speak out. Too many eyes were trained on him, even amid a conversation that he wasn’t truly involved in. That, and it was generally a better idea to stay quiet and hear more of their plans this way. But inside, conflict erupted. _Marron didn’t think this through,_ he thought, frustration just barely touching the edges of his mind. _Or she did and she’s willingly sacrificing herself and everyone there to save Bulla._ She’d always been too protective of her friend, too ready to throw anyone and everyone else at Frieza’s feet. _Would she really go this far?_ If he needed to get back to South City, he probably could. What was a Saiyan army anyway? He’d won against worse odds, hadn’t he? _No… it’s too far and there are too many of them. It’d end up just like last time._ Wait… _Last time?_

“— true about the princess?”

The words forced Gohan to leave his train of thought behind so suddenly that it could’ve given him whiplash. All of his attention was caught then, carefully hidden behind an expression of vague disinterest. He waited for an answer, but the king’s extended silence and the way his gaze remained settled on Bardock for asking the question told him pretty much everything he needed to know. _Something happened. Something bad._ Was she dead? Was that why he wanted to keep Vegeta distracted? _If she died under his watch, I really wouldn’t want to be here when Vegeta found out._

“There was another attack, yes, but nothing we couldn’t handle. I imagine she’s still resting,” the king said mildly. “It seems pregnancy is more difficult on her body than Avoca anticipated it might be.”

Bardock appeared to accept the answer readily and bowed out of respect, but the king seemed to realize that Gohan was watching him. Their eyes met only for a second, but it was long enough for Gohan to sense… unease, or the next closest thing. Whatever it was, it was enough to intrigue him.

“It appears we’ve nearly forgotten about our guest,” the king said. “You’ll have to forgive me... I’m not used to seeing you without your mask. You and your brother look very much alike.”

Gohan felt the corner of his mouth twitch. It nearly surprised him that the king thought to mention Goten at all, but he supposed that was to be expected. After all, considering the situation with Bulla, it shouldn’t have been all that unusual. “We take a lot after our dad.”

“Indeed. Tell me — do you know why I invited you here?”

He let out a small puff of air, somewhat amused at the phrase the king chose. “Not sure I’d call it that. What do you want?”

The king stepped away from him and toward one of the tall windows nearby. Gohan could just see some of the streets outside, mostly made of Saiyans walking by with the occasional human here and there. “I imagine we share a great deal of the same goals you have. We want an end to this war. We want to bring peace to this planet. We want our people free to live their lives as they’d see fit, as more than just rabid monkeys set out to destroy everything in our master’s path. But to do that, we must end Frieza once and for all.”

Gohan had heard this already, albeit in fewer words and with different justifications. He’d heard it so much that he was starting to get sick of it. _No one loves peace more than a conqueror does,_ he thought bitterly. _Everyone would see you as heroes for ending the war, and no one would dare oppose you. It’s smart, I’ll give you that._ “What do you want with me?” he asked instead, shifting his focus back to the reason he was here. “My help?”

“In a manner of speaking,” the king replied. He glanced back over his shoulder at him. “Let’s see if she upheld the other end of her bargain.”

Fasha moved quickly, but not so quick that he didn’t immediately realize what she was doing. _The senzu beans._ Of course she told them. _Damn it, Marron!_ He should’ve known it was never just about protecting Bulla.

He grabbed Fasha’s wrist just in time, twisting it sharply. She adapted almost instantly, turning her body to move with the direction of the twist and using his grip as leverage to yank him forward and punch him in the throat. It hurt, but Gohan had been hurt worse — he released her wrist and repositioned his feet for a better stance. Suddenly, Tora and Shugesh grabbed him again, far more forcefully than they had before. It was instinct that caused him to strain against them, though they were quick to establish stronger control of his arms. He opted instead to pull Shugesh forward with his body and kicked back in time to knock Tora away, refocusing his attention just in time to catch Fasha’s foot before it collided with his jaw. In one fluid motion, he used her momentum against her and flung her back into Shugesh, throwing them both back.

With both arms free, he leaped backward to throw several ki blasts at the ground in front of them, creating as much dust and debris as he could. He could hear the doors fly open and several more boots trying to join the fray, but by then he’d created enough confusion that it turned into chaos. _So much for playing it slow,_ he thought. Gohan turned his attention to the ceiling, which was mostly made up of glass. But he wasn’t able to act on his instinct then — he narrowly bent back out of the way of several incoming ki blasts. While he managed to dodge that, it was enough to distract him from the full weight of Shugesh’s bodyslam. 

They both hit the ground hard, much harder than he anticipated. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of him, impeding his ability to block the punches that came flying down at his face the moment they hit the ground. Gohan did the first thing that came to mind and charged another ki blast in one hand. A ki blast this powerful and this close to Shugesh’s head would certainly do the trick. _It’ll do more than that. It’ll kill him._ But he had to do it — if he didn’t, and the Saiyans got the senzu beans… _When did you become so comfortable with death?_

He stopped. Shugesh didn’t. But Gohan had been hit worse, and he could wait for another opening.

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed over the chaos. That opening went away before it even appeared. Shugesh’s blows came to a halt, and almost immediately after they had, he was pulled off of Gohan entirely. Standing where he had been the whole time, the king hardly looked fazed by the fight that broke out, but the anger in his voice betrayed his expressionless face. “I think we’ve seen enough foolishness for one day.”

At that, Bardock reached a hand out to pull Gohan back to his feet, a gesture that was accepted. Still, it seemed odd to him that Bardock hadn’t tried to intervene sooner… or at all, actually. Was Shugesh not his teammate? Or did he simply not believe that Gohan would kill him? He wasn’t sure which option was more plausible, and neither fully explained his choice. _It could’ve just been a test,_ he realized. The thought annoyed him.

“Leave us, all of you.” The command came as a surprise even to Gohan. Several voices began to protest, but they were all silenced quickly. “Leave us!”

Slowly, the Saiyans began to filter out of the room, until it was just the king and Gohan. Whatever cordiality the king was putting up all but melted away in an instant. He walked back toward the long table and reached down to retrieve a tablet. “I had hoped not to resort to violence so soon into our meeting,” he said bitterly. He might not have partaken in the fighting himself, but it clearly drained him all the same. “You obviously know what I am referring to. Bulla already made me aware of their existence. The human woman merely offered a means to acquire them. We tried to come up with a plan that might make you more amenable to simply handing them over.”

“Was trying to take them by force plan A or B?” Gohan asked behind gritted teeth. Adrenaline still coursed through him, even as he took in deep breaths and tried to calm the raging current in his mind. He’d always had a hard time with that anger. _Stay calm._ It was difficult.

The king ignored him and continued to tap away at the screen in his hand. “We Saiyans have admittedly never been very good at diplomacy. Nor have we ever been especially skilled at espionage, and yet there are enemies among us that we cannot find.” He set the tablet down and turned heel, heading for a door behind the long table. “Come. I suppose you are owed an explanation.”

For an instant, Gohan glanced skyward again, at the glass ceiling above him. _Now’s as good a chance as any._ Yet he didn’t take the opportunity. Instead, he returned his gaze to the king’s back at the sound of the door opening. The king turned back and looked at him expectantly. Despite his best judgment, Gohan followed.

“This enemy is cunning, whoever they are. They hide within our ranks and sow doubt and chaos among my men,” the king said. “But they are also cowards. They strike only from the shadows, too afraid to face us directly.”

_Too afraid, or just smart?_ “If you wanted help, you should’ve just _asked_ ,” Gohan said sharply. “You betrayed Frieza. You took your people back from him and used them against him. They’ll keep coming for you until you’re dead.”

The king snorted incredulously and paused at another door with two guards flanked on either side. “I am not the real target.” With a quick press of a button, the door opened and they both stepped into an unassuming looking room. At the other end stood yet another thin man, although this one wore a long white coat and had glasses that sat on the end of his nose. He took one look at Gohan and let out a loud click of his tongue.

“Avoca. Any changes?” the king asked.

“No, Your Highness. Not a single change.” Avoca looked between the two before he turned away and pushed back a curtain to reveal a healing tank. The king stepped aside to give Gohan a full view of Bulla inside, her eyes closed as if she were simply asleep… and a swollen belly to confirm what he’d been afraid of. He stepped closer and frowned at her, as though she could even see the disapproval in his face.

_You really messed up this time, little bird,_ he thought idly. _No wonder he’s so angry._ But such thoughts only invited uncertainty and whispers, and he was quick to shut them out. “What happened?” he asked instead.

“Poison. It seems we caught it in time to save her and the child, but getting it completely out of her system is proving… hm… challenging _._ ”

“Poison?” Gohan repeated. _That doesn’t sound right. Not for Frieza, anyway._ “What kind of poison is strong enough to do that?”

Avoca didn’t seem to have an answer. The king filled the silence. “If we knew, she would not be in this state. Avoca, go ahead.”

_Nothing about this seems right._ Gohan kept a close eye on Avoca as he set about draining the fluid from the tank. Once that was done, he began to undo the various wires attached to her, undoing the apparatus over her mouth and nose first. Her breaths seemed slow and shallow, and Gohan’s gaze hardened on Avoca. His bones began to feel heavy under his skin, imploring him to keep guard. To watch. _Poison…poison strong enough to nearly kill a half-Saiyan…does that even exist?_ Watching the doctor work took him back to another doctor in another room at another time. They too hovered over Bulla’s unconscious form, smaller yet somehow less frail. And he watched them work with the same diligence as well. _Frieza was saving her death for Vegeta. Why kill her now? Why poison?_ Just like before, he stayed quiet. He stayed attentive. Nothing they did went unnoticed, just as nothing Avoca went unnoticed. _Unless it’s not Frieza pulling the strings here. But if it’s not Frieza, then who is it?_

“— have it or not?”

He realized Avoca was speaking to him, the tone snappish and impatient. All at once, he forced his mind to clear, his body to relax. He didn’t have to ask for clarification — it was obvious why he was brought there to see her like this, to face the truth of her condition. It was clearly a tactic, a means to an end. And it was, admittedly, a very good tactic. To make him see for himself that it wasn’t just her life on the line, that if he denied or stalled then he would be condemning his brother’s child as well. _Constant manipulation from every side,_ he thought wearily, ignoring the guilt that came with the irritation he felt. _Marron and King Vegeta, two of Frieza’s best. Should just expect this by now._ After all, it wasn’t Bulla’s fault that she was still just as much a pawn as he was. That was just their lot in life when it came to Frieza’s world, whether she wanted to admit that or not.

There was no way he could refuse, that much was certain. A promise he made a long time ago came back to him as he withdrew the folded up envelope. _I promise, no matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you._ It was a promise he wasn’t able to keep in the end, a promise that haunted him since. Goten was just a kid at the time, still afraid of the fighting that kept happening around them even though he put up a brave face for their mom. Somewhere in that same memory was a little girl’s voice, and he didn’t know if it was Bulla or Marron or… or someone else. But in that moment, the little girl wasn’t the one who needed comforting — his brother needed him then, just like he needed him now. _So, hey… you don’t need to worry. Just leave it to me._

“ _Remarkable._ ” Avoca’s voice was dripping with awe while he watched the small screen in his hand. The senzu bean worked fast, much faster than his monitors could keep up with. Her breaths steadied and she began to stir, but by then Gohan had moved away from her. “Sire, this data is… it’s…”

“It’ll change everything,” the king said in a hushed voice. He turned back to look at Gohan, an expression of renewed conviction. Avoca remained at Bulla’s side, easing her upright and speaking to her in hurried, snappish tones. “It seems we finally have the key to this war’s end.”

_Or the start of another._ Gohan looked down at the envelope in his hand. _It will never end._ There were only three more senzu beans left, all three that were really meant for Krillin from old friends just trying to do their part. Who knew how many were left? How many they’d be able to get if they needed them again? _I can’t let them waste these on themselves._ Or would they try to replicate them? Try to make their own if he allowed it? It seemed likely. Too likely. _I can’t let them do that either._ If Bulla or her baby were in danger again, if his mother needed help, if his dad came back… _A lot of variables to this one, but there’s only one right answer._

“Wait!” The king noticed too late what Gohan was doing, was too slow to react as the envelope burned in a ball of concentrated ki in the palm of his hand. From behind the king, both Avoca and Bulla stared at him, mixtures of confusion and in the doctor’s case disappointment written on their faces. “What did you _do?_ ”

Finally, Gohan could see the king for who he was. Beneath a veneer of calm, authoritative royalty was a scared, angry old man. He looked less like Vegeta now, and much more like a mere shadow of the man. Seeing his chance at winning quickly and easily burn up in front of his eyes had exposed him for who he was.

But simply winning the war wasn’t the real point, was it? Frieza didn’t stop once he’d won. There was always something more to take, someone else to destroy. He’d seen firsthand the way Frieza would instigate a war on another planet only to sweep aside his enemies and make himself the savior. Of all the memories locked away, of all the things he couldn’t see _quite_ as clearly, this alone had been drilled into his mind deeper than anything else had ever been. 

_No one loves peace more than a conqueror does._


	17. Bulla

She thought she was dead.

When Bulla first opened her eyes, it hardly seemed real. Her body felt heavier than it ever had before, and her arms and legs were particularly stiff. It took her mind a moment or two to piece together where she was, and seeing _him_ had nearly thrown her into a panic. For a second, she believed she was back in Frieza’s clutches, returned to him by a man she had learned to hate and fear all her life. Seeing Avoca and her grandfather assuaged those fears if only enough for her to realize that Gohan had done… _something._ Whatever he destroyed in his hand, it sent the king into a rage. But Avoca had been too quick to close off the doors, shutting her out from everything happening on the other side. She could only wonder about it while the doctor examined her.

For her part, Bulla remained silent, only speaking to answer his questions. Although she couldn't deny wondering about what Gohan had done to spark her grandfather’s anger, she never made the attempt to actually ask about him, afraid that she might accidentally reveal more vulnerability than she wanted to right then. Avoca kept her until he was satisfied with his results, then she was escorted elsewhere, flanked by four guards in the middle of the night so no one saw her. Now, sitting on a new bed in a new home, she found herself too distracted to sleep. Distracted by her own thoughts, and an ever-present feeling of anger and dread. For as fine as she felt physically, she was all too aware of just how close to death she’d been only hours earlier. And frankly, it scared her.

Bulla knew this feeling — she’d felt it time and time again under Frieza. That sense of helplessness and fear had practically burned itself into her bones, thanks to his repeated teachings. But she always knew when it was coming; when she displeased Frieza and he decided to teach her a lesson, she would feel it deeper than she’d ever felt anything. Even so, she knew what to expect, how to cope afterward. Her body would ache and her brain would feel foggy and muddled, her bones would twist and her muscles would spasm, and her dreams would haunt her for days and days and days. It was the kind of fear and pain that one could never truly know unless they experienced it. This time, though… 

This time was different. She looked down at her stomach, at the swell there that held something far more valuable to her than anything she could’ve imagined. Twice now she’d almost been killed, but no matter how many times she ran through that dinner, she still didn’t understand _why_. Ever since she could remember she had been Frieza’s favorite — he kept her at his side for years, made sure she was safe from his enemies, never let anyone near her without his permission. Her body was his tool, yes, but when used it was used as a reward. Scarring or maiming was out of the question because of it. She was his doll, his plaything, something for him to use and put away whenever he wanted. And his lessons, his punishments, they were never meant to _kill_ her. They were always only meant to drill obedience into her. But now… if he really gave the order… if he really wanted her dead, then it must have meant something.

The thought left her feeling conflicted and ashamed. Somewhere in the depths of her bones, Bulla knew she had failed. She disappointed him, worse than she ever had before. _If only you Saiyans weren’t so prone to stupidity,_ she could hear him say, because he used to say it every time she annoyed him. Hearing his voice, even if it was only in her mind, made her heart pound a little harder and her throat feel a little tighter. Part of her wanted to apologize, wanted to beg for forgiveness, and that part of her made her feel even more ashamed and angry. She hated him, that much was certain, and yet — _and yet_ — she was still mad at herself for letting him down.

Her baby kicked her, not for the first time since she’d woken up, and she put her hand over the spot. Whatever Avoca did he at least managed to save her baby. She could feel her moving more than she had before too, which provided both comfort and distraction. The only problem was that thinking about her baby inevitably led her to think about Goten and that only frustrated her more. Would things have been different if he’d been here? Would they still have tried to kill her, or would his added presence have been enough to stall them? Not that she _needed_ him, of course, but still. The baby was his too, as much as she resented that fact now. That had to count for something. Or at least, it _should’ve_. Instead, he’d run off and left her behind to deal with this all on her own while he went searching for his stupid father.

“That jerk,” she muttered bitterly. Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, but she would not cry. She refused to cry over _him,_ especially since the very thought gave her a headache. It felt like tiny little needles were stabbing the inside of her eyeballs whenever she took the time to remind herself of his failure, and it only added to her anger. In an effort to banish him from her mind, she forced herself to lie down fully and ignore the light peeking through the blinds of the window on the other side of the room.

As tired as she was, though, it didn’t mean rest came easily for her. Or much at all, for that matter. Bulla remained awake for hours, falling asleep only for short intervals and waking up with faint memories of bad dreams. The third time it happened, she gave up on the idea entirely. She occupied her time by looking through the closet, which contained exactly nothing that would fit her and also nothing she’d _want_ to wear. Whoever lived here before, they were both not very stylish and much thinner than she was right now. And why were they so obsessed with the color _purple?_ It didn’t take long for her to become annoyed, at which point she slammed the closet door shut and made for the door. But when she pushed the button, fully expecting it to open so she could go find her own clothes, nothing happened. 

“What… hey!” she said, pressing the button over and over again. It didn’t seem to help, so she pounded on the door. “Hey! Is anyone there?!”

“Apologies, princess,” a muffled voice said from the other side. “The king has ordered you remain here for your own safety. Whatever you need, we can have it brought to you.”

“What I _need_ is to not be locked up,” she snapped back angrily. “Let me out right now! That’s an order!”

No answer came, and she had half a mind to blast the door down and storm out anyway. But she was tired enough that it didn’t seem like a great idea and considering she had already nearly been killed once, she opted instead to kick over a decorative table by the door to vent her frustration. 

“Fine! Then bring me food — and some fresh clothes that actually fit,” she demanded. _And tell my grandfather that I am_ not _a helpless child,_ she nearly added but thought better of at the last second. 

“Right away, princess.”

Luckily for them, her order didn’t take long to arrive. Within an hour she practically had a feast of carefully packaged food and her entire wardrobe from her previous house brought to her. It took a bit for her to work up the stomach to actually eat anything, even knowing that the food had obviously been checked before being delivered, but once she’d managed to eat, bathe, and change into clean clothes, she felt much better. While that didn’t make up for the fact that she was still locked up, it allowed her to relax at least somewhat.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to no one in particular. “I’m not a coward.”

That said, the more she thought about it, the more she understood the king’s reasoning. Someone tried to kill her twice in a very short period of time and it was likely they would try again. On the other hand, she felt capable of defending herself. The poisoning had been unexpected, but she certainly held her own against the saibamen. And once Vegeta came back, no one would dare try again. Being locked up didn’t feel very helpful, and the fact that the king had yet to speak to her himself made her both anxious and irritable.

With so few options available to her, she set about trying to distract herself; she ran through a couple of small exercises and used a few vases that likely belonged to the previous owners of the home as target practice. She didn’t have much space to work with, though, and it didn’t take long for her to hit a dead end. When that happened, she took to looking through the bookshelves. Most of them were pro-Frieza-related materials, even a few tacky romance novels with over-stylized book covers that she _really_ wished she hadn’t seen, but she paused when she withdrew a stack of magazines.

Sitting neatly on the top was one with a picture of her own face on the cover, yet she hardly recognized herself. A light dusting of pink blush covered her cheeks and the tip of her nose, her hooded blue eyes framed by violet sparkles while the lids were tinted white. Her lips were painted violet and partially opened, giving her a sensual appearance despite her age — she must have been around seventeen or eighteen, judging by the gold color of her hair. If she remembered right, then it was around the time that Frieza had taken a particular interest in surrounding himself with that color. He’d just destroyed some little planet with strange-looking inhabitants, all of whom were gold-skinned, and she assumed it had been his way of celebrating his own victory over them. 

The more Bulla stared at the picture of herself, the more she felt strangely nostalgic. She didn’t _miss_ Frieza, and she never would, but… well, he had been basically all she’d known for her entire life. Her gaze shifted to the digital record player sitting nearby, tucked away on a shelf just under the television. After only a brief consideration, Bulla set aside the magazines and scoot closer to the player. Its screen lit up instantly and it didn’t take any time at all to find what she was looking for.

Whoever lived here before must’ve really bought into Frieza’s whole operation — almost every song she and Marron ever recorded was here, including ones from when she was still just a child. She spent so much of her time since she escaped ignoring that part of her life, pretending that it never happened at all that it was strange to hear it again. She clicked through a few songs before settling on one of the older ones, and the moment the music began to play it was like she was thrown back into a different time. The lyrics were a bit lost to her now, but she could distinctly recall every step and movement she took for the performances. There was never any room for mistakes, never a time when she was simply too tired to dance or sing and allowed to be imperfect. Perfection was expected. Perfection was demanded.

Halfway through the song, she clicked over to the next and found the same results there too. She continued on that same pattern, clicking through her music like they were pages in a photo album. Peppy, cutesy songs and upbeat lyrics turned into more sultry sounds as the music aged with her; the shift in words was subtle yet deliberate too. Where earlier songs from her childhood were focused almost entirely on singing Frieza’s praises or cheerfully recounting his victories over their planet, her teen years brought more mature tones. Things that still applied to Frieza if listened to with him in mind, and since he was _always_ on _everyone’s_ mind, then it all applied by default. She sang about love and loyalty with such passion like they were the only things that mattered to her. But listening back now, it all seemed like a joke. All that effort and production for a bunch of slack-jawed, miserable little insects who gladly lapped up every stupid word she and Marron sang.

“Pathetic,” she scoffed. They should’ve known better. _She_ should’ve known better. There was a time when she bought into that crap too, back when she was younger and idealistic. Love and loyalty… it wasn’t like either lasted, as evident by her current predicament. Bulla looked back at her face in the magazine and scowled at herself. _What a stupid child I was,_ she thought bitterly.

It was then that the record changed over to a new song automatically, and the first few beats made her heart jump. Unlike the others, she remembered this one vividly. The song had been recorded barely a month before her escape, right before her father appeared and Frieza vanished… it was a darker track, with heavy, hypnotic beats and slower rhythm. At the time she considered it just another song to make Frieza happy — he always went through different phases where he preferred one style of music over another — but the more she listened to it, the stranger she felt.

Beneath the lyrics and the beat, she could’ve sworn she heard something else… like someone was speaking very, very quietly. She moved closer to the stereo and leaned in, straining to hear more clearly. When that didn’t help, she turned the music up louder and louder until it rumbled in the pit of her stomach and made the walls thump with every downbeat. Even then, the whispering was indiscernible. If she could just turn it up a little more she might be able to make out what it was saying and—

“Ah! Damn it,” she gasped. The little flurry of kicks had come so swiftly and suddenly that they surprised her. She quickly turned the music all the way down and sat back, one hand dropping down to rub her belly. All the noise must have upset her baby, who was more than happy to make that displeasure known. “Was that too loud for you?” Another few kicks came, albeit more gentle, and she sighed. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. It was probably nothing anyway.”

Bulla forced herself to set aside her train of thought and kept the music down low enough that those weird sounds didn’t really register anymore. Even with the music turned down, her baby remained active. Avoca ended up being right in the end, in that she definitely could tell when her baby was moving. It wasn’t _terribly_ painful yet, but Bulla could tell that her daughter was getting bigger, which meant she was also getting stronger. Her little kicks and punches had more force behind them, enough that Bulla wouldn’t be surprised if she wound up with a broken rib at some point. _Having a Saiyan baby is no walk in the park,_ she recalled Bulma saying. At the time, she dismissed her for just trying to connect with her, but now she didn’t doubt the truth in those words at all. She wondered what else having a Saiyan baby was going to entail, especially with the way everyone talked about it.

“Remember: don’t think this means you can boss me around any time you want,” she reminded her. “I’m not going to be your personal punching bag for long.” Just as expected, her baby did another little movement that she assumed must’ve been a punch or two. 

With a sigh, Bulla turned the record player off completely and had to work to get back to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly from sitting for so long. The thought bothered her as she glanced at the window, willing herself to set it aside, and frowned at the dull light outside. It wasn’t super late, though it was clear to her that she must’ve been distracted for quite a while. Just as she fully stood, a knock came at the door.

“Princess, the king has sent for you. He requests you are made to look presentable and allow us to take you to him,” the voice on the other side said.

“Presentable?” she repeated. The door opened and she stepped back to let two women enter the room. They looked to be in their mid-twenties, each carried garment bags and one had a small box tucked under her arm, but both immediately bowed low and offered pleasant smiles.

“Hello, princess! Our names are Purima and Ruuju,” the one called Purima said. “His Majesty has given us the honor of preparing you for the tournament. Please allow us to take care of you!”

“Tournament? What tournament?” Bulla questioned. 

“Oh… we were only told to tend to you,” Ruuju said and bowed again. “I hope you’ll forgive us. We’re only doing as we were instructed.”

Bulla eyed them suspiciously, unable to decide whether or not she even wanted their help. Neither of them had tails. Purima had pink hair and Ruuju had red, which meant they must’ve been human. It seemed like an odd choice at first, but it made sense — Bulla would be completely safe from any attempted attacks. Finally, she waved her hand. “Fine, but make it quick. I don’t want to take forever.”

“Of course! We’ll do our best, princess!”

Bulla sat down in a nearby chair and let the women do their work with only minimal direction. She refused to wear too much makeup, still bothered by the image of her own face on that magazine, but allowed Ruuju the chance to impress her. While she did that, Purima set about working on her hair. The woman’s hands worked quickly and delicately, tying her hair up into a ponytail with two rope braids on both sides of her head. It gave her a fairly severe look, which was aided by the red lips and dark eyeshadow that Ruuju applied to her. 

Clothing was next, which turned out to be slightly challenging given her current frame. It occurred to her rather suddenly that she wasn’t entirely sure how long she had been unconscious. Her body felt different, but that was the case nearly every day ever since she got pregnant, so it wasn’t a very helpful clue. Regardless, Purima and Ruuju proved to be more creative than Bulla had initially assumed. Her black leggings still fit well enough, though her boots felt a little too tight at first. They found a crimson kimono-style robe and wrapped her up in it, which was held together by a sternum corset modeled off of the Saiyan armor set. It was more decorative than functional, but it served her overall look well. At the very least, for the first time in her life, she actually felt like Saiyan royalty.

Ruuju and Purima fawned over her before they took their leave, thoroughly pleased with themselves. Bulla arrived at the arena shortly thereafter, escorted by her four guards through a side entrance. The arena seemed like it had been there for years with only a few modern-looking modifications made, including a private box along an upper balcony. There was a glass window surrounding its concrete frame, and it was high enough that the occupants could see the entire arena stage plus a good portion of any aerial fighting. She assumed it must’ve been built for Frieza at one point, though she wasn’t sure she recalled ever coming to Central City with him before. It was there that she found Okara and Negi, the latter of whom stood and bowed when she entered.

“Princess! You’re looking rather radiant,” Okara said with a giggle. She rose and bowed her head as well, showing off her billowy and heavily decorated dress. Unlike most of the others, Okara wore lots of pink and white rather than the red and black that seemed more commonplace, and this dress was no exception. Her black hair was pulled up into ornate loops held together by braids and garnished with jewels. By comparison, Bulla felt significantly underdressed. “I hope those humans I found pleased you.”

Bulla nodded, realizing that it made perfect sense that Okara would have been the one to send for such a service. She couldn’t imagine her grandfather taking the time to select stylists himself. “They did, thank you. That was very thoughtful of you,” she said.

“Oh, it was no trouble. I thought you deserved it after everything you’ve been through,” Okara said. “We were all so terribly worried for you.”

“Yes, indeed,” Negi agreed. “But your hasty recovery was a relief to us all.”

“Is my grandfather not joining us?” Bulla asked as she sat. The other two waited until she’d settled before they returned to sit as well, and Okara gave a somewhat woeful sigh.

“I’m afraid His Majesty is preoccupied with other matters tonight,” she said. “But he didn’t want to postpone this event, especially since it’s all for you.”

Surprised, Bulla couldn’t help the way her eyes widened. “What? For _me?_ ”

“Yes! To celebrate your recovery, and to find a worthy companion for you,” Okara said. At the frown that crossed Bulla’s lips, she giggled and waved her hand. “Oh, you don’t need to worry — we’re not arranging a _marriage_ for you or anything. No, no, that sort of affair would be entirely your business to arrange. You see, most Saiyans have a companion, someone they can rely on during battle. Your grandfather has Tollash, I have our dear Negi here, and soon you’ll be offered one as well. You don’t _have_ to select anyone, of course. It’s only tradition, that’s all.”

While Okara’s assurances seemed innocuous, Bulla had a feeling that it would be wise to just go along with the tradition. After all, she’d been working hard to gain as much respect among the Saiyans wherever she found it, and she could use whatever help offered to her. She nodded thoughtfully and returned her gaze to the arena below, letting one of her hands rest under her belly when she felt her baby move.

As the stands continued to fill up and the music played, Bulla found herself thinking about the last conversation she’d had with her grandfather. He’d mentioned bringing Gohan here to offer protection, and yet she didn’t see either of them. _He’s not going to be part of this, is he?_ It definitely seemed like the sort of thing they would do behind her back and she grimaced trying to imagine what she would do if he was. _He’d win… he’d win and I’d be stuck with him again._ The more she thought about it, the tenser she began to feel, and the pounding of the music only added to her anxiety. Her baby’s gentle movements provided a little distraction, at least enough to put the worry away from her mind for the time being.

Eventually, the music began to die down. The stands below had filled up completely and a large, bald Saiyan flew over the arena stage and landed directly in the center. He raised both hands and let out a massive yell, which the crowd responded to in kind. Beside her, Okara let out a series of giggles and clapped her hands in delight while Negi gave his own low chuckle of approval. The bald Saiyan raised one hand and produced a medium-sized ball of ki, holding it above his head as he began to shout.

“Tonight, we Saiyans prove our worth to our king! Tonight, we Saiyans bring honor to ourselves! Tonight, we Saiyans show our pride for all to behold! In the name of King Vegeta, let the tournament—“ he sent the ki ball skyward and used his other hand to send another up to meet it, causing the two to collide with one another in a dazzling explosion “— _BEGIN!_ ”

The crowd went absolutely wild for that. Even Bulla felt a rush of excitement as the bald Saiyan turned to meet another and began to battle it out. The two engaged in a fairly short fight — the announcer was a capable fighter and dispatched his opponent within a matter of minutes, much to the crowd’s delight. The next one proved more challenging, and soon the announcer was out altogether. As each Saiyan faced off with one another, the attacks became more brutal; even from where she was, Bulla could see the splatters of red against the white concrete floor of the arena stage. It wasn’t until the sixth or seventh match that she realized no one had yet to use any ki attacks against one another.

“Okara — why isn’t anyone using any ki?” she asked, leaning toward the other woman. 

“It’s a classic show of strength, princess,” Okara answered. “Energy is not the _only_ thing a Saiyan warrior is known for. Mastery of the body is mastery over oneself. And it would be unfortunate to destroy this little arena before we get much use out of it, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Soon, though, we’ll have a _real_ arena,” Negi added. “One that can handle true Saiyan might.”

A thundering crash stole their collective attention. The latest combatants had managed to destroy a corner of the stage, leaving it a crumpled mess on the grass. Raditz was the latest competitor and he had been on a winning streak. The more he fought, the more likely it seemed that he might actually make it to the end and it honestly didn’t bother Bulla _too_ much. He didn’t seem very bright, but he was strong enough to fight alongside her father more than once so that had to count for something. His relation to Goten worked against him, though at least he didn’t look very much like him. As the matches wore on, he was clearly the crowd’s favorite, a fact he appeared more than happy to eat up. Just when Bulla allowed herself to become comfortable, however, everything changed in an instant. 

The doors on the other end of the arena opened and the king stepped out to thunderous applause. Raditz and his recently defeated opponent quickly dropped to one knee out of respect. But while everyone’s attention was on the king, Bulla’s eyes were glued onto the man behind him. _Gohan_. The two stepped onto the stage, and whatever the king said was almost completely drowned out by Bulla’s own internal rage. She didn’t need to hear anyway — it was obvious what they were doing. Even the crowd’s attitude seemed to change, going from loud and boisterous to eerily quiet. Bulla scowled as both Gohan and the king looked up in her direction. _Why are you doing this?_ she wanted to yell back at them. _There’s no way anyone will beat him… why go through all of this trouble if this was the plan all along?_

“How positively intriguing,” Okara said. “Using Frieza’s own hand against him…”

“Or against us. The last time he was in one of our arenas, it didn’t end in our favor,” Negi commented.

“Oh my… and he doesn’t look very pleased at all,” Okara added thoughtfully. “I’m sure the king knows what he’s doing, though.”

_Even your own generals don’t agree,_ she thought bitterly. Neither seemed aware of Bulla’s anger and so neither paid her much mind. As she continued to sit there and wallow in her fury, debating with herself whether or not to just walk out altogether, the match began. It went as well as to be expected. Raditz was skilled and held his own for a decent amount of time, but it didn’t take long for Gohan to gain the upper hand and humiliate him. Where the crowd seemed unsure of what to make of him before, Gohan’s victory over Raditz secured a resounding round of applause. It made Bulla want to scream. Instead, she allowed herself to give in to impulse. She stood and stormed for the door, but as her hand touched the handle, she heard Okara let out a surprised gasp.

“What is he _doing?_ ” Negi said in disbelief. Bulla paused and looked back at them. They’d risen as well, but they were standing by the window, looking down at the arena. Bulla returned to join them and realized why they were so surprised — kneeling in front of the king and Gohan was Cress. 

“He’s challenging… what a splendid turn of events!” Okara squealed. “Oh, how fun! This is so exciting, wouldn’t you agree, princess?”

Bulla didn’t say anything, because she wasn’t sure how to feel. The king looked taken aback as well since he obviously hadn’t planned for the interruption. She half-expected him to dismiss Cress, to declare Gohan the undisputed winner regardless, but this was tradition. He was just as trapped as he made her feel, and for that she was at least grateful. He stalked off the arena stage after only a moment’s pause, and Cress stood to face Gohan.

“This is stupid… he’s only going to get himself hurt,” Bulla muttered. But when Cress glanced up in her direction, she could have sworn he caught her gaze right away. He smiled confidently and her cheeks reddened while her breath caught in her throat. 

The match began with a bang. Both men met each other head-on with such force that it shook the whole arena. Within seconds they were moving so fast that Bulla found it difficult to keep up with them; in one moment Gohan was above Cress, and in the next Cress was beside him, and not once did it seem like one had the advantage for long. Every hit was met, every strike was matched, and every time they broke apart, they were just as quick to re-engage.

“They’re toying with each other,” Negi said dryly.

“ _Or_ our dear friend has met his match,” Okara said. “What do you think, princess?”

Bulla didn’t answer at first. She was far too busy trying to keep her eyes on the two. Every time she thought one of them was about to win, they’d recorrect and go right back to where they were before. She wasn’t an incredibly skilled fighter yet but she could tell there was something _odd_ about the way they fought. It was almost like Cress was predicting Gohan’s moves and matching them, but… but that wasn’t possible.

“No one’s ever beaten him before,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s too strong.”

Even as she said that Gohan hit the arena stage hard, sliding across several feet before stopping. He barely managed to stand when Cress was on him again, swiping at him unrelentingly. Bulla leaned closer to the window and held her breath. If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought Cress was wearing Gohan down — only that couldn’t have been the case, because he never wore down. He responded to Cress’ attacks with ferocity of his own. One kick to the chest, another to the stomach, and he’d succeeded in knocking Cress down onto the flat of his back.

_This is it. This is where he loses,_ she thought as disappointment settled in. And then the strangest thing happened — Cress _didn’t_ lose. Instead, just as Gohan got close, Cress twisted his legs around and swept his feet out from under him. Cress launched himself up and brought his heel down on Gohan, who managed to shield his face with both arms. Both found their footing and exchanged a few more blows until their fists collided together and they came to a standoff. It seemed like both tried to push the other off the stage, but neither were able to go very far. Suddenly, the floor beneath Bulla’s feet rumbled and she realized that the force of their standoff was the cause. The stage below the two men began to crumble under the pressure as well, bits of the concrete floating up and around them. Bulla watched as one of Cress’ knees buckled and he dropped down to the other, but he didn’t give in yet.

“Come on,” Bulla whispered. Cress was so close to winning, so close to beating him. He couldn’t lose now, not when he’d come so far. “Come _on._ ”

Another shockwave shook through the arena, further growing the crater below them and shattering the glass window in front of Bulla. She shielded her face from the glass as it dropped to the ground beside her. 

“If they keep _this_ up, they’ll destroy the whole arena,” Negi said.

“Isn’t it positively _thrilling?!_ ” Okara said, clapping her hands together. 

Then Cress gave one final upward push and slammed his forehead into Gohan’s so hard that Bulla heard the sound of bone hitting bone from where she was. With the window of opportunity that he created, he quickly spun himself around and pulled Gohan with him, one arm going up to wrap around his neck. At first, Bulla assumed Gohan would wriggle out of Cress’ grasp easily enough — it didn’t look like an especially secure grip from her perspective. But rather than that happening, she watched as his body went rigid and his eyes widened. Cress didn’t seem to notice at first, until Gohan began to go limp against him. He released his hold and stepped back to let the other drop to his knees and fall face down.

Bulla felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs as she tried to process the sight before her. Years of fear collapsed on the stage, stiff and unmoving. Years of hatred and anger remained where it was even when its opponent fell back himself, flat on his back on the broken concrete below. Years of pain and suffering and death, the thing that _always_ got back up, didn’t get back up this time.

Bulla felt like she was in a dream, unsure if she could even trust her own eyes. The cheering was deafening. Okara and Negi stood in silence as they stared down at Cress and Gohan’s forms. The sight of the king’s red cloak billowing in the wind as he walked onto the platform drew her attention enough to see the way he looked up in their direction. At his nod, both of her companions descended from the box to join him on the ruined platform. Bulla moved to join a few minutes later, though she felt slow and sluggish. She had every intention of joining them for whatever discussion they were having, but the moment her feet touched the ground, her eyes landed on Gohan’s body. He was still breathing, so he wasn’t dead, but it was the sound of a groan a few feet away that stole her attention. She went to Cress’ side quickly, kneeling down beside him so that she could get a better look at his face. He had several fresh bruises and scrapes, and a little bit of blood trailed down his tanned skin. He opened one eye to look up at her and his bloody mouth broke into a smile.

“Hey there… pretty lady,” he said, breathlessly.

“What were you thinking?” she whispered, truly stunned. “How did… how did you—”

“It was… it was nothing,” he interrupted. “I just… wanted to protect you…”

She felt a strange tightness form in her chest. “I don’t _need_ protecting. You could’ve died, pulling a stunt like this.”

Cress’ smile widened slightly and he let out a short laugh, which was cut off by little grunts of pain. “I… I know, but…” He cringed and grit his teeth, then reached down to grab her hand. She leaned closer, her brow wrinkled in concern. “But I wanted to. There’s a lot… I want to do.”

Bulla shook her head and looked toward the other end of the arena. Two groups of medics walked toward them with two floating stretchers, Avoca leading one side and Orgetta leading the other. She turned her head to look back down at Cress, only to find he’d sit up slightly so that their faces were closer together. He was so near that she could feel his breath on her skin. It made her skin prickle and turned her cheeks pink. 

“C-Cress, what are you…” she began, but he didn’t let her finish. His lips pressed against hers gently, careful and uncertain, and for a moment Bulla remained completely frozen. All around her she could hear the sounds of cheering from the crowds, her grandfather’s council and their hushed whispers, and the pounding of her own heart as it beat in her chest. She almost pushed him away, almost rejected what he offered her. A part of her wanted to, but… _But why? For what?_ She didn’t know. She didn’t _care_. 

_Yes,_ a voice whispered. _Yes, I want this._ This feeling, this surge of emotion — she hadn’t felt it in so long, enough that she didn’t want to let it go. Didn’t want to forget what it felt like again. The taste of blood and sweat mingled together in her mouth as she returned the kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing: almost this whole thing was written on mobile while I’m across the country. 
> 
> Second thing: there is a place called Soupa Saiyan in Orlando, FL and I got to go there with GrammarGrrrl. 10/10 would recommend meeting up with fellow AO3ers for anime themed restaurant adventures. (Though make sure you do it safely! Wear your masks, people.)
> 
> Third thing: ✨ there’s a reason for everything that happens in this chapter. ✨


End file.
